Haven't posted a training log — or, for that matter, anything — lately; it's just that it's been so damn busy around here I hardly can manage to breathe. Or maybe that's just the autumnal leaf mildew. Either way, it's wicked hectic.
Most of the busy-ness has taken place outside the home, so I wrote big checks to babysitters four days in a row. Friday night's Oktoberfest in Springfield was ganz wunderbar; the oompah band was astounding and played my favorite song from when I was two: “It's a Small World After All.” Had a bordering-on-naughty repartee (having to do with Schlag) with the hunky German managing the on-site chefs. The Student Prince food was amazing — fried camembert, anyone? — and the beer was Spaten Optimator, which is pretty much all I need to say about that. I had looked up the German word for “bitches” but was not given the opportunity to use it, though my talk with Herr Schlagmann had me blushing for an hour. Then, we went back to our friend Chris's house in Agawam and played Beatles Rock Band, which is going to be THE must-have game of the season. You can connect three microphones to it for harmonizing. Astounding. It has “Dear Prudence” and “All You Need is Love,” but not “Penny Lane.” Unfortunately, it does have “Yellow Submarine,” which for me is the song version of llamas or gourd art.
Saturday was World Dungeons and Dragons Day, so most of our cohort met up at the local comix shop and participated in the festivities of the holiday. First we created an adventure, and then we played the adventure made up by another group. I ate too much junk food and had a marvelous time.
Sunday I went on a butt-kicking run with the BK, then Bible study (we've picked up where we left off: the book of Revelation), then MORE D&D with our crew for our regularly scheduled, Monstro-run adventure. I killed, rather, Isdra the Deva Bard, killed herself a mess o'minions. Quite satisfying.
And then yesterday, Monday, I did some brilliant work for one client and no work for another. Some days, that's how it goes. Nevertheless, it's time to get back on the horse/stick/moneytrain, so ttfn, Weibchen. 🙂
Hmmm…Mr Whipped Cream? Why aren't the German guys I meet all flirty?? Hope the weather holds for you…Katherine
Ja, Herr Schlagmann. He was in charge of the Apfelkuechen.
“Mit Schlag, bitte,” I requested.
He looked at my face and said, “oh, don't worry, it will.”
And then, barely realizing that was what I was saying until it was out of my mouth, I said. “That's good. I like a man who knows his Schlag,” which stunned Herr Schlagmann to silence while the chef behind him cracked up and might even have slapped a knee.
Once HS had recomfited, he could barely look me in the eyes when he said, “I know that you understand some German…” trailing off before adding, “so I have to be careful here.”
“Ein bisschen,” I said, and then augmented. “Genug.”
too funny!