Category Archives: SILLY

Thin hair, don’t care!

Let me just start with a fact that contains no exaggeration whatsoever this time: I have been forgetting my hair for 2 or more years now. I just wash it twice a week, put in hair rollers in 2 strategic places and let it dry, then I simply make a ponytail and that was that. For years, as I said.

Were this a glossy mag or something, I could now continue by telling you about the miracles my hair has conjured up while being unobserved and seldom trimmed. Well, this being the Real Life: it didn’t. It just grew, all thin and curly as always, it fell out again, it has been turning grey and I do not intend to do anything about it and that’s all.

I still feel I should show some appreciation, since my hair has never been longer, so here’s a photo of it, still wet and while I am creating a fake length by leaning backwards – to introduce some much needed exaggeration here (Drama, baby, drama!):


The Times, They Aren’t a-Changin. Alas.

Sometimes I just do it: I assume all my troubles started in the Neolithic period.

You see, this was a time when people sat down and liked it. So they thought “Oh, I could get used to sitting here every day”, which is why they invented farming, domesticated animals and settled in permanent places. Jep, I blame it all on the Neolithic Revolution.

Life wasn’t a piece of cake back then, it is known. Apart from the troubles that simply went along and settled down, too, there were many new problems to deal with: diets with loads of unhealthy carbohydrates, increased body fat, rapid spreading of diseases … you know, the stuff our life is made of.

While your average scientist would probably hang me for simply stating this, as it is a highly controversial topic, I assume people in those Neolithic villages, towns and cities soon became very modern and started to have eyes only for their neighbors. And if those neighbors had a better hut, a sharper knife or a larger piss pot, they caused one to feel all kinds of strange and unpleasant feelings. In short, I am assuming here people soon concentrated on other people and nothing has been the same ever since. Nor better, if you ask me.

I could sit here writing for years to let you know what exactly makes me dislike the general fact that people tend to be only/mostly interested in their own status as compared to other people, but I just don’t care, do you?

Maybe a hint will do: when life on our planet requires us to concentrate on hard facts, we better do it, hard and fast and most of all, without checking our own status every second of it. This ability to deal with things other than Me and My Neighbors is something that one acquires during a process known as Growing up. Or should – this is what our planet is for.

The reason I am telling you about my Neolithic belief is this article about Brian Cox saying if Earth is lost, our galaxy would lose its meaning. Because my first reaction upon reading it was “Well, be better next time you coincidentally produce meaning, Galaxy. Make sure it does not litter you and spend its time navel-gazing.”


Zeugin zäher Zeiten

Da ich auf so ziemlich alles neugierig bin, schaue ich mir die Bilder an, eins nach dem anderen. Ich stelle fest, dass Angela Merkel in den 16 Jahren sowohl im Dienst als auch zu feierlichen Anlässen eigentlich immer dasselbe trug. Das kann ich verstehen: immer dieselbe äußere Form. Fast. Wirklich.

Bin zwar berühmt dafür, dass sich die lieben Umzugsmänner immer, aber wirklich jedes Mal über meine Klamotten- erm … -berge echauffieren, aber im Grunde genommen sehne ich mich nur nach ein paar wenigen Sachen: fließendes schwarzes Kleid, blaue Jeans, weißes Shirt und Karorock oder auch -kleid. Sneaker. Alle anderen Kleidungsstücke, die ich mein (und mein und mein und mein …) nennen darf, kann ich mir gar nicht erklären. Außer dass mir mein Verantwortungsbewusstsein verbietet, passable Kleidung wegzuwerfen. Und natürlich, weil es schon noch Spaß machen könnte, mal was anderes zu tragen.

Da also auch nach dem Umzug alle meine Schränke voll sind, muss ich auf ein paar Tricks zurückgreifen, um mir überhaupt noch neue Stofflieblinge anschaffen zu können, und zwar nachdem ich schon meinen größten Schatz überzeugt habe, dass er weniger Schrankvolumen als ich braucht (kennt ja jeder: Mann, Frau, Schrank).
Es hat sich inzwischen herausgestellt, dass gebrauchte Kleidung für gebrauchte Kleidung tauschen tatsächlich unglaublichen Spaß macht. So komme ich an einige wertvolle Stoffjuwele, bei denen ich früher die Ausgabe gescheut habe, weil ich ja “nur zu Hause arbeite und die teuren Sachen nur im Schrank hängen würden” (wobei man das kaum noch “hängen” nennen konnte – ein passenderer Ausdruck, den ich hiermit der Welt zur freien Verfügung anbieten kann, wäre “sardinieren”).
Heutzutage tun in meinen Schränken tatsächlich hochwertigere Sachen tatsächlich hängen und eine Ausrede für diese Pracht habe ich auch schon parat: Bald gibt es in Norddeutschland ein kulturelles Leben zu entdecken und zu feiern und da brauche ich dann hoffentlich auch all die wunderbaren Wollblazer, die mich in den letzten zwei Jahren gefunden haben und wohl zu meiner Lieblingsgrundausstattung gehören (werden). Erst jetzt bin ich so weit, eine Blazerfrau zu werden, ja.


Einschlafen ist eine Kunst

– “……….. Das war jetzt aber nur ein sehr kleines Klabonk?!”

– “Ja. Mir ist diesmal nur ein Ohrhörer und nicht das ganze Handy runtergefallen.”

Und schon giggeln wir in der Dunkelheit, statt zu schlafen.


Lokacija je vse.

To so te iteracije enega in istega: hitre, podzavestne možganske celice strahtrpečega človeka pogruntajo, da sem se navzgor prištudirala in prigarala iz njegovi grozotrpeči dušici koristnih globin in da zagotovo ne obvladam geografije.

Res je ne. (Obvladam pa rodilnik, a to šteje?)

Vseeno me je vedno sram za sogovornika, ko ta začne vzneburjeno preverjati, ali je to res. V obliki vprašanj, trditev, namigovanj … na ljubljanskem faksu celo med izpitom.

Dragi moji, res je: v geografiji sem šibka, evropske celine še nisem zapustila (Predvidevam, da Gruzija ne šteje, imam prav?) in nič od tega me ne matra. Vas pa očitno že.

Modrosti je vseeno, po kateri poti jo iščemo.

Obstaja pa tudi dokaz, da geografijo mikroobvladam: živim namreč na evropskem severu, kar se je izkazalo za idealno kombinacijo. Naravnost obožujem svežino vremena, vonj po vetru na severu, neskončno ravnino, bližino severnega morja. Sanja se mi ne, zakaj, vem samo, da je to moja geografija.


Schnipp, Schnipp…. errr, wie jetzt?

Wenn es wirklich darauf ankäme, die pure Wahrheit zu sagen, würde ich sofort zugeben, dass ich nicht an Horoskope glaube. Woran ich aber auf jeden Fall glaube, ist ein System von unterschiedlichen Entitäten, das mir Unterhaltung bietet, zur Not die selbstproduzierte.

Ich schneide die ersten zehn Harlekinweidenäste ab, als mich das Gefühl überfraut, ich wisse doch gar nicht, wie das mit Bäumescheiden gehe. Was genau mache ich denn hier und wie genau sollte ich es machen?!?

Dabei habe ich das mit dem Garten schon noch recherchiert, nur halt für viele Pflanzen auf einmal, und jetzt bin ich gar nicht sicher, ob ich mich richtig erinnere, was ich mit den Weiden anstellen sollte, damit sie die schönen Blätter bekommen und niemand im Dorf über mich lacht.

Also nix wie wichtig um sich schauen, Schere weg und im Wintergarten heimlich Video gucken. Wie man im Frühjahr eine Harlekinweide zurückschneidet.

Danach sehe ich zu, dass ich beim Schneiden zuversichtlich aussehe, und schneide einfach. Die Weide nimmt das Schneiden kaum übel, frau darf volle Kanne zulangen, heißt es im Video.

Was ich am Ende aber doch nicht tue. So wie ich meine Haare nur bis zu einer bestimmten Länge abschneide, bin ich auch nicht bereit, aus den Weiden was Kleines, Knotiges, Amputiertes zu machen. Ist bestimmt ein Fehler, aber bei meiner Methode tun die Weiden wenigstens geliebt ausschauen, finde ich.

Ich nehme mir trotzdem vor, genau zu beobachten, was mein Schnitt verursacht hat und nächstes Jahr Anpassungen vorzunehmen. Frau schneidet nur einmal im Leben das erste Mal im Leben Bäume, danach muss Wissen her.

Ach so, und was hat das mit Horoskop zu tun? Irgendwann denke ich erstaunt: Sowas Bescheuertes machen nur Schützegeborene.


Hairy Tales

“Obviously, I quite envy you,” I decide to be honest. “I wish I had hair like that.”

As my husband doesn’t know what to do with this bit of honesty, I don’t elaborate. I also cannot help him: while I have cut my hair for most of my life, I have never done short hair and would not want to start learning now, just in case.

“Maybe George Clooney can help? Surely he’s not selling coffee right now?”


Früh sorgt sich.

Aha. Korkenzieherhaselnuss. Kartoffelrose. Alpenrose. Lebensbaumhecke. Harlekinweide. Schilfrohr. Bienenweide.

Was haben wir getan?
Ich meine: Wie soll das alles überleben, wenn ich noch nie einen Garten hatte?

Als erstes mache ich das, was ich immer mache: im Internet suchen.
Als nächstes folgen die Notizen.

Und die Pflanzen, die sich nicht an meine Notizen halten, werden durch bravere ersetzt.

So einfach ist das natürlich nicht.

Aber ich lerne gern.

Und wir haben erst Januar.


Sleepless In Denmark

“Remember having asked me about possible reasons for not doing this anymore?” he says suddenly, unexpectedly. “This would be one. But we can avoid that in the future.”

He is right, of course: while we have started our paddling tour in Denmark before the school holidays begin, we should still have expected larger campsites to attract youngsters of a certain kind at any time. Certain kind means being able to tow unbelievable quantities of beer crates to the campsite and at the same time unable to get very far by paddling on the river, which is where the cars come in, at some later point.

And did I mention the Soccer World Cup was to start soon?

Anyway, we did not get much sleep in our tent that night, but I chose not to grow the huge bags under my eyes without a fight. I shared my personal opinion about the partying youngsters with my restless husband and didn’t spare him any details: I was quite sure the Danes understood enough German to know what my problem was. They did. And were soon making fun of my “Scheiße!”. Which was when the i-word was used. But before things got any worse, the idiots stopped singing, yelling and talking and went to sleep, leaving us to try to do the same.

At that point, we had done quite some paddling and really needed some rest, and I would have preferred to end the day by going through the lovely pictures of the magnificent Gudenå in my head, but river fans cannot be choosers, so.

Our tour had started in Skanderborg, a day later than planned because the wind was trying so hard to blow away the gravity of the water, as it often does. What else to do but to go shopping instead: Aarhus offered its facilities and we said thank you, though we almost ended up buying nothing. That is: I bought 2 outdoor jackets for next to nothing and left them in the car for the rest of the paddling tour, because I wasn’t concentrating properly.

The next day we could finally cross the peaceful lake Mossø – it had apparently lost all the will to try to kill us that was on such a magnificent display the day before. I felt victorious, for no reason at all, and we entered the Gudenå system.

In this system of lakes, connected by the river Gudenå we spent another five days, which were even better than we had expected them to be, though our last long ride was full of rain, cold clouds, damp cows on moisty pastures and – singing, yelling and talking Danish youngsters at our destination. They had moved to our last campsite by cars and joined another group or two. That evening, Denmark won the soccer match against Peru. And we slept like two logs.

“We shall return,” he says a few days after the tour. “We will pack some ear plugs and avoid the high season and campsites in bigger places, but we will return. The river is magnificent.”

It is.


I have done it.

So I went to my client’s event and loved it. Every minute of it.

But the way there …

It all started at home, of course.

My two-weeks-ago-carefully-put-together outfit fell out due to one fact I had ignored when doing the sartorial maths. Luckily, I conjured the next outfit on the spot, as you would, and I still had enough time to check it out. Unluckily, the second outfit wasn’t good enough, either. I did tell you I had nothing to wear?!?!

Like in a fairy tale, it was the third outfit, born out of necessity (aka 5 minutes to go) that was good enough and made me feel well, so off I went.

Only to find myself in an old train half an hour later, wondering whether the 3 guys next to me were going to drink all that beer and what the strap of my brand new bag was doing down there. They didn’t, they were rather nice while sipping their beer, and the strap had gotten somehow detached from the bag – without my help.That something like this should happen!

So now what? What now so? Now what so?

Ahhh, my brain cell went, you have some safety pins in your kaputted bag – use them. So I did. The bag lasted till I made the first few steps in the small town I had been headed to.

Do you know Karstadt? It’s one of those warehouses that are going to be abolished because we all shop cheap things online these days (like bags). Anyway, there was a Karstadt near the venue I was headed for and they sold me a most lovely bag within minutes, made all the sympathetic noises while I told them about my stupid old bag, didn’t wince when I used their surfaces to empty the old bag and fill the new one and wished me a nice evening.

I threw away the old bag, what else and had myself a nice evening.