Pardon my French

Shoes by Sofie Schnoor. I am not sure if that is the name of a real person (boy - was I disappointed when I found out that Jimmy Choo is not a live person!), but I still think it is a really cool name. Picked up these in Copenhagen in May, sort of as a consolation for the Gucci ballet flats that I ended up buying later anyway. If I was to take a second first name, it would be Sofie. I think I would loose maybe 25 pounds by taking that name, as it is a typical name for a really skinny person. Might be because it reminds me of Aunt Sofie in the Norwegian children´s story. A skinny and super-bitchy old spinster of a woman (in my imagination, that is). If my low carb diet should for some reason crash and burn (like so many diets before), I might give this a try.

Wednesday and time for French class again. Fourth session, so now we are half-way through what they refer to as level ZERO. So far I have picked up quite a few new words, but I am not really sure if they are the actual words I was looking for. Today´s homework included the phrases: "Je suis martienne. Je suis verte. Je suis tres amusante."* I hope I will NEVER get in a situation where I will need to use these phrases. Ever. Again.

Our teacher ("Le Professeur") is a bit on the strict side. Whenever you manage to give a wrong answer, or a wrong pronunciation, she makes you repeat in class until everybody´s ears start bleeding. So better get it right the first time. One of the women in the group is now so on the edge that I am afraid she will start crying the next time she gets something wrong. Poor girl. I am of the understanding that this way of teaching is veeerrry Frrrench indeed. The teacher does, however, not look anything like the stereotypical petit French woman. No, FINALLY I know where all the croissants are going. Good to have that sorted out.

Mrs. Croissant is sending me about twenty years back in time. To my upper secondary education, and those amazing German classes with the troll of a teacher and her poodle (Topsy!). My oh my. She also knew how to play her power games. I had the same German teacher for TWO VERY LONG YEARS (for both of us, I guess). For some reason that woman never got to learn my name. I remained "you-with-the-ponytail-at-the-back-of-the-class" throughout it all. Even on days when I wore my hair down. I wonder whose German grade is really printed on my diploma. If you ask my husband, I actually struck a good deal there, as my German sucks. My diploma does not reveal that fact.

* I am a martian. I am green. I am really funny.