Tuesday, June 09, 2009

The Test Results Are In

It's all good.

I'm officially an advanced språker of the advanced språk.

Check me out. I'm even certified to use the fancy vowels: språk, høyre, lææææære.

I think the 'æ' is my favorite of the fancy vowels. It's kind of a hyper-flat, short 'a' sound, and I can't seem to stop myself from over pronouncing it every time I use it: lææææære, bææææære, ææææære. Annoys the shit out of Elder Miss, which makes it even more fun.

I needed 450 points to pass. I got 600 out of a total of 700 points. I'm told this is respectable, and that I should be proud of myself.

But I don't know. I tend to think it means bupkis. I mean, I flew to Rygge (in the East of Norway) yesterday to pick up my new puddy tat and her sister. The dialect over there.....sheesh! Everytime someone opened their mouth to speak to me I was all like, "Wa-huh?"

The breeder who delivered the puddy tats to the airport spoke an extra special form of the dialect called 'breathless rapid-fire'. That was fun. I think she was telling me stuff she thought I needed to know. Something about vaccines which they need more of, and ID chips which need to be...hell, I don't know...but there was definitely something about ID chips. I just nodded my head, fondled the kittens, and signed whatever she handed me to sign. Seems to me that someone who scored a 600 out of 700 possible points on a language test should be capable of more advanced conversation than that.

The kittens, by the way--cute with a capital Q, if you know what I mean. They made me take them out of the travel cage and carry them through the security check point. Everyone around me agreed we made quite the adorable tableau. Then, naturally, the machine singled me out for a random search. Just imagine: me, two kittens, and a rough pat-down by a uniformed security guard (a rather large, dark one, at that). The stuff of fetishes, I tell ya'!

Alas, the puddy tat is not home with us. As I think I've already mentioned, we're leaving for Salt Lake next Wednesday and the woman who bought Cindy's* sister offered to take both kittens for the summer. We delivered them there late last night. Both of them exhausted and terrified from their journey.

And such is the news from JEDA this week. Time to start gathering my wits about me, and preparing myself for the trip home. Funny, yesterday's quick hop to Rygge didn't phase me at all, but the prospect of next week's trek acorss the Atlantic just freaks me out. Is it the distance? The water? The fact that the kids will be with me, and that they too could fall out of the sky from 35,000 feet? I don't honestly know. But I'm not looking forward to it. Not one bit.

Home, on the other hand, home will be bliss. Can't wait!

*You read right. It appears that Mister and his 'Cindy' campaign won out. Fucker.


la dragon said...

Wow, you're now a legal spraker! My compliments. And you'll be amused to know that I somehow internalized your puddy tat schedule and had a dream about it last night (In Which you brought home a big orange tabby, and I was all, what of tiny little wide-eyed Cindy Lou Who!?). Because, you know, I don't have anything more interesting or important to occupy my subconscious mind in the few hours of sleep I do manage to achieve.

Can't wait to see you in a few weeks!

Queen LaTeacha said...

Congrats!! I knew you could talk that gibberish pertty durn good. Now if you can just teach your ol' ma, you'll really be a spraker (whatever the hell that is).

Glad you had a good trip to collect the kitties, but.....Cindy?.....really? That's the name of a Bratz doll, or a Barbie doll, or an aging pinup girl. But a furry little meowing and purring bundle of kitten? I don't know.

Anyway, see you in a few. I guess I'd better start cleaning, huh?

Amy said...

Your blog cracks me up.

trace said...

Congrats! 600 out of 700 is great!

I feel totally comfortable that you could smooth talk your way out of a dangerous mishap if we were walking through a Norweigian back alley, should I ever be with you in a Norwegian back alley, that is.

(I can only ask for a pencil in German, among very few other lame tidbits, so as you see, I would be of no help in said back alley...)

See you soon! :)

One Hopeful Melody said...

Could be worse, I guess... One of the girls I work with got herself one of those super-bred puppies that came with a name for the "papers". She didn't know she was allowed to change the puppy's name and now they're kindof used to it...

The poor pup's papers name?

Cinderella Bella

Yeah... they let the 8 year old name that one at the breeder's house. Poor puppy.