What
Hmm, what should we write about today? It's been a while since my last post and a bunch of stuff has happened. But today my mind is getting a really slow start due to a cold that's shut off everything but the headache machine and the snot faucet. However, I have a suspicion that punching away at the key board might give me the jump start I need to launch my day...at 13:17!
Ooops, tea cup empty...(our hero is seen wobbling in to the kitchen to make more tea)
Okay. Now, where was I?
oh yeah...
I'm supposed to be out hunting mice right now. The weather is nice and my friend Hlynur and our mouse-hunting guide are out there right now. But I have this cold that refused to let me wake up this morning. Would it have made me feel like more of a man to be out trapsing through tall grass to catch wood mice and weigh them and take note of their gender and size? No. But, being a biology student, I should not miss such opportunities to get my boots dirty and my hands on living critters. The truth is, I'd love to be outside. But that would just make me feel worse tomorrow and the next day and those two days are not worth catching some mice.
I don't want to watch tv, although I hear it calling me. My computer games are few and they hold no appeal today. Writing is what I want to do. But about what should I write? That's the main trouble, isn't it? One needs to have a subject before one starts typing.
One thing that I can write about is my latest, "Well, you wouldn't see THAT in the States," moment. Yesterday, I came downstairs and poured myself a bowl of CocoPuffs (I'm kukoo for them!) and then sat down at my little table to eat. Just as I was taking my first bite, I turned the milk carton around to read the saying on the back. For those of you not familiar with milk containers in Iceland, they do not feature the missing child notices that one finds sometimes on American paper milk cartons. No, Nýmjólk cartons have explainations of expressions and sayings in Icelandic. Well, yesterday, my spoon stopped on the way to my mouth and i thought, "Well, you wouldn't see THAT in the States." The saying was, "Sæt er lykt úr sjálfs rassi." To you poor few out there who do not undertand Icelandic that means, "Sweet is the smell of one's own bum". And there was a line drawing of a person twisting around so its head is above its bum and a wiggly line coming up from the bum is going right into the person's nose. Now, I've heard this sentiment expressed in English as well, though not on a milk carton at the breakfast table and not as an official saying. The one thing that still strikes me about this thought is that it's just plain not true. Never in my 32 years (haven't had the birthday quite yet) have I enjoyed the smell that comes out of my own bum.
The story doesn't end there, however. That evening at the dinner table, Dagbjört poured herself a glass of milk to drink with supper. As soon as she put the milk down she pushed the carton away and turned it and said in a somewhat angry voice, "That makes me lose my appetite!" I was glad to hear this expression of sensibility and propriety from her. I felt proud of the fact that she demands more decency at the table han to have talk of bums and their smells and enjoyment thereof!
Shall we stretch this post a bit longer? Maybe that's unnecessary and unbearable. I'm not a great writer like Þórunn. I don't have Egils' skill with a camera. I don't have Melody's talents to make art. But still you return! Ha ha ha, you are under my spell! Don't worry, my dear thrall, I shall not poison your mind too quickly. More later.
Ooops, tea cup empty...(our hero is seen wobbling in to the kitchen to make more tea)
Okay. Now, where was I?
oh yeah...
I'm supposed to be out hunting mice right now. The weather is nice and my friend Hlynur and our mouse-hunting guide are out there right now. But I have this cold that refused to let me wake up this morning. Would it have made me feel like more of a man to be out trapsing through tall grass to catch wood mice and weigh them and take note of their gender and size? No. But, being a biology student, I should not miss such opportunities to get my boots dirty and my hands on living critters. The truth is, I'd love to be outside. But that would just make me feel worse tomorrow and the next day and those two days are not worth catching some mice.
I don't want to watch tv, although I hear it calling me. My computer games are few and they hold no appeal today. Writing is what I want to do. But about what should I write? That's the main trouble, isn't it? One needs to have a subject before one starts typing.
One thing that I can write about is my latest, "Well, you wouldn't see THAT in the States," moment. Yesterday, I came downstairs and poured myself a bowl of CocoPuffs (I'm kukoo for them!) and then sat down at my little table to eat. Just as I was taking my first bite, I turned the milk carton around to read the saying on the back. For those of you not familiar with milk containers in Iceland, they do not feature the missing child notices that one finds sometimes on American paper milk cartons. No, Nýmjólk cartons have explainations of expressions and sayings in Icelandic. Well, yesterday, my spoon stopped on the way to my mouth and i thought, "Well, you wouldn't see THAT in the States." The saying was, "Sæt er lykt úr sjálfs rassi." To you poor few out there who do not undertand Icelandic that means, "Sweet is the smell of one's own bum". And there was a line drawing of a person twisting around so its head is above its bum and a wiggly line coming up from the bum is going right into the person's nose. Now, I've heard this sentiment expressed in English as well, though not on a milk carton at the breakfast table and not as an official saying. The one thing that still strikes me about this thought is that it's just plain not true. Never in my 32 years (haven't had the birthday quite yet) have I enjoyed the smell that comes out of my own bum.
The story doesn't end there, however. That evening at the dinner table, Dagbjört poured herself a glass of milk to drink with supper. As soon as she put the milk down she pushed the carton away and turned it and said in a somewhat angry voice, "That makes me lose my appetite!" I was glad to hear this expression of sensibility and propriety from her. I felt proud of the fact that she demands more decency at the table han to have talk of bums and their smells and enjoyment thereof!
Shall we stretch this post a bit longer? Maybe that's unnecessary and unbearable. I'm not a great writer like Þórunn. I don't have Egils' skill with a camera. I don't have Melody's talents to make art. But still you return! Ha ha ha, you are under my spell! Don't worry, my dear thrall, I shall not poison your mind too quickly. More later.
posted by Our Hero, at 2:02 PM
1 Comments:
Upon reading that your friend wants to "catch wood mice and weigh them and take note of their gender and size," I couldn't help thinking; why would anyone want to measure a mouse’s genitalia? Of course, I know that’s not what you meant, but I just can’t help the way my mind works.
Anyway, I hope you get better soon.
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