torsdag den 30. maj 2019

Unicorn Farm - Susan at Home

In May 2019 Margaret Adamson, and her friend Sue Fulcher are providing the prompts. They will be published by Elephant's Child. This week's prompts are: 

Pin cushion

And / or


Now my tales of Susan is going back in time. We're back to Susan's first year at Unicorn Farm, but also back in Susan's coastal home town. This is a "filler" or background chapter once again.

"Moses supposes his toeses are roses,
but Moses supposes erroneously.
For Moses he knowses his toeses aren't roses
as Moses supposes his toeses to be."

"Toeses!" Linda said "What nonsense. Why don't they speak like grown-ups?"
"Well I like the song," Susan answered. "It sounds as if they're having fun, I suppose that's the general  idea."
Linda was in bad temper today, and Susan tried to avoid her, but she liked those old, American musicals too much to get out of the living room just to get out of Linda's way. She really liked their songs and dance. Her big idol was Fred Astaire and his tap dancing, but Gene Kelly was no mean dancer either. Susan rested her chin on her knees, sitting in a heap, trying to not attract Linda's attention.
During a long, winding dialogue - is it still called a dialogue when more than two are involved, Susan wondered - her thoughts slipped back to early spring and her dreams of being a dancer. The mini series "Ballet Shoes" had run on  TV, and she had dreamed of becoming a famous ballet dancer just like Posy Fossil. She even persuaded Mum and Dad to buy her a pair of pink pointe shoes. They hung on her wall now, tied up by their pink satin bands. After buying a book on ballet and doing plies and limbering exercises for months, she realized that she was much more a kindred spirit of Petrova, who went off exploring with Gum in the end.
Her Mum's solicitude for her feet, when she and Linda grappled with the basics of standing on their toes of course made Susan's stubborn streak become rampant and made her continue her exercises and reading for over a a month more before giving in. But in the end she found the perfect excuse for quitting. She found out that female ballet dancers was limited to a height of 165 cm - even if the bar was up from 156, she was still going to be too tall within a year, and furthermore at 13 she was far too old.  At least she now had a very good understanding of how a classical ballet was choreographed, and it helped her enjoy the dancing scenes in the musicals even more.
Linda left the living room in search of more fun than Susan's absorption in Gene Kelly's and Debbbie Reynold's problems and steps in the musical, and Susan let herself be carried away by music and words.

When the musical had reached it's happy ending, Mum came in and asked her to lay the table for dinner. Susan got up, she felt cold ans stiff from sitting for so long on the floor, but the thoughts of coming adventure made her get up and do her chores without complaining. Mum's perfume smelled flowery and made Susan's nose tickle. She sneezed a couple of times and Mum looked questioning at her. "It's only the perfume Mum, it makes my nose itch. But I still like the smell."
While Linda and Susan ate their early dinner, Mum and Dad sat at the table with them. Mum told them, for the 3rd or 4th time, that she and dad would be away for the night and most of Sunday too. "I've hung the contact form on the fridge," Mum said. "You can 'phone Dana and Louis if you get into trouble, but try and use your common sense first. We're having a party tonight, to celebrate Dana's admission to courtroom duty. Tomorrow Dad has promised to show a reel or two of the films he took of her back when she was studying to became a lawyer. He'll have a squad of spectators there."
Dad loaded screen, movie projector and other equipment in the car, while Mum helped the girls clear the table. "You're big girls now," Mum said, "you do not need a baby sitter for one night any more." 
"No, Mum we don't" Susan and Linda agreed."We'd rather like the money for candy," Susan added. The girls had bought a big bag of candy for tonight for at least some of the babysitting money.
"Now it is six o'clock," Mum said. "We'll be home at the very latest this time tomorrow." Susan and Linda hugged Mum and told her not to worry.
"Now what," Linda asked, when the lights from the car could no longer be seen. "Now we eat our candy," Susan said. They turned on the TV again, and sat looking at the kid's hour and the a natural history program on zebras, all the while eating their candy and drinking milk. When the zebra program ended, they were tired and ready for bed.


Next morning Susan jumped out of bed. Today they were all alone. Hopefully Linda would go visit her classmate Karin as she had spoken of earlier. Susan put the kettle on for tea. Linda came into the kitchen as well and placed bread, butter and honey  on the table. For a time they just ate, then they heard somebody knocking on the door. Linda went and opened. Susan could hear her greet Karin through the open door. "Hello Karin," Linda said. "Am I late or what has happened?"
"I just woke up very early, Karin said. "And I wanted to come over and fetch you, my parents are still asleep."
"Do you want a cup of tea?" Linda asked.
"Oh, yes please. I'm hungry," Karin answered. "Yesterday we had guests, and they danced, and had a lot of loud music, candles and strange smoke, but no dinner." Susan brought a mug and a plate for Karin and cut her some generous slices of bread. Karin ate four slices of bread and drank a lot of tea.
"Linda," Susan said, "can I leave the dishes for you? I want to go for a ride on my bike before it gets too cold. Today might be my last chance to visit the woods before winter comes. I promise to be home before Mum and Dad returns."
"Yes," Linda said. "We might go to Karin's place later. We'll clear the table, no worries."  Their heads bowed over some new magazine of Linda's, giggling.

Susan grasped her blue bag, now once again containing books and wand, and set out. She was not going to the woods, at least not to the woods Linda thought of. She was off to Unicorn Farm for some extra time with Heidi. They were going to practice transforming. Heidi was adept at this. She could make a pin cushion turn into a hedgehog, while Susan's spells so far had only had the pin cushion wiggle the needles and pins and spout an occasional leg. Susan found it a bit unfair that all apprentices were supposed to be good at transformations. It was only the purple team, Heidi's lot, who were really good at it. Susan would rather make real hedgehogs come to her, than transforming them. Maybe when they'd have to practice calling animals to them she could teach Heidi something.

mandag den 27. maj 2019

Poetry Monday :: The Tool Shed

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is The tool shed (courtesy of Delores).

The tool shed in my garden
is made of sturdy boards,
It houses hoes and rakes and spades,
and shears with twisted blades.

The tool shed in my garden
has hooks for all my things,
for scythe and sickle, whetting stones
and tied up balls of strings.

And stacks of pots stand ready
in every form and size,
And for my needy seedlings
good housing it supplies.

The tool shed in my garden
Is well stocked as you see.
Two shelves for seeds in boxes
a three-legged stool for me.

A lathe stands at the window,
It turns out pretty things.
Alas I must admit:
This tool shed in my garden
lives only in my dreams. 

My real life "tool shed" April 2013. It's a bit more overgrown now.

onsdag den 22. maj 2019

A trip to Bakken

In May 2019 Margaret Adamson, and her friend Sue Fulcher are providing the prompts.
They will be published by Elephant's Child.
This week's prompts are:

Dressing gown

And / or


Although I've written a short end to my story of Susan and The Unicorn Farm, I don't feel like stopping. There's still so much more to tell. This is a continuation of Susan - Holidays at Home.

Uncle Freddy bought a book called "Hjælp!" (Help), leading to a funny incident, as he sat down on an old, decrepit bench shortly after. Ironically the bench collapsed, and uncle Freddy with it, the only visible part of him being a hand with the book in it. Everybody laughed, and had to pull themselves together to get him out of the rubble.

As soon as Susan had netted a reasonable sum of money for the coming day's visit to the amusement park, she pushed the rest of her stuff over to Linda. "You can keep 4 fifths of the money, you make on my things," Susan said, knowing full  well that Linda was adept with numbers, and only were going to cheat on her for a minor sum.  She was tired of boisterous uncles, loud family members and drunken people in general.
Susan went into the kitchen and made herself a couple of sandwiches. She took some milk and some candy and carried it all  upstairs into her room. Once inside she tied the rope, she kept handy for this purpose from the door to the window post, effectively preventing anyone from opening her door, as it opened outwards. The key to her door had gone missing before it was her room. Hence the rope, When Susan had to leave the room locked, she tied the rope in place and climbed from her window out onto the balcony leading to her parents' sleeping room and from there she could access the rest of the house. Her parents did not like her doing this - they found her out once she broke the window by leaning against it while tying the rope, and the shards rained down past the window they were sitting at in the living room below. They accepted it, as some of her smaller cousins were very inquisitive and their parents lenient. She chuckled now at the memory of the raining shards, but it had not been funny then. She had been shocked, but unharmed. The pane of glass had somehow fallen out of the frame in one piece, only it hit the rain spouts on its way down and broke i a million tiny fragments. Susan had been picking up shards for days after, a job that had been made harder by the many many yellow buttercups with their shiny petals reflecting the sun.

Susan sat down at her table, eating first the sandwiches, then the candy, savouring the taste of cold milk and candies. She was diligently studying Cantrippes ...  once again. The text on making objects float in the air was written in a very technical language. She had asked Heidi for help, and when they both admitted defeat, Tue had come to their rescue, explaining just how those twisted phrases were meant to be read. And now, finally she understood. She took out her wand and made today's coins zip and soar through the air. When she was sure she had it down, she turned the page and got to colour changes. "Colour changes," Susan thought to herself. "Well, that might come handy if Mum tries to put those orange hairbands on me again, but I don't see the great use,"
But it was part of what she had been asked to study for the next holiday. And Thora had made it quite clear that they were going to learn all of it, when Veronika, the lanky flower power girl, had protested against their learning of these minor matters. Susan bowed her head over the book, she still had to practice a lot to get the pronunciation of the colours in Icelandic right.

Nest day began late, but it did not matter much. The amusement park did not open until 12 o'clock. Almost all the stuff had been sold, all the food eaten and all the beer drunk. Mum was still dallying around in her orange dressing gown and slippers. Linda was impatient, trying to make her hurry up and get ready while Susan put the empty bottles back in the crates and stacked them in a corner. Then she put the pillows back on the garden swings and generally tidied the place.
Finally Mum and Dad were finished. They begun climbing into the car, when Mum suddenly looked at Susan's hair. "Susan, where's you hairband?"
"Oh, Mum, do I need them today? They got lost yesterday, somehow."
"Susan, Susan, you're always loosing those hairbands. Well maybe we can buy you some new ones today." "Lets be off!" Dad said, and they hurried into the car, Susan lugged her worn, blue haversack and Linda was toting her new, purple bag. During the long drive Susan repeated the colours in Icelandic. She envied Heidi, who had Lis and Tage more than ready to help her study the words. Not because they were hard to learn, most of them were very like the Danish counterparts, it was just so much more fun learning together.
Susan's tummy began feeling queasy, as always on long car rides, but fortunately they arrived before she had to ask for a break.


The amusement park was fun. They visited the house of  crazy mirrors that made them small and squat or gave them large balloons for heads connected by thin necks to an almost inexsisting body on bandy legs, or any other wavy and distorted images making them all laugh and look wondering at one another. The way out was through a labyrinth made of glass walls. Susan always wondered why it was so hard to get out. You could see where you were supposed to end up, all the walls were transparent, and yet somehow everybody always banged their head against a glass pane in their search for an exit.
When they finally found their way out they all had a snow cone. Susan chose mint flavour, and Linda had strawberry. Dad always wanted lemon, and complained that it was too sweet, while mum also took strawberry  and only ate half of it, protesting that the cold ice set her teeth on edge. Susan and Linda shared the rest of it, each of them thinking she got less than the other, none of them saying anything, because they knew that bickering would make Mum and Dad shorten the stay.

Susan wanted to go to the funhouse. Even though it made her think of uncle Theodore and his stupid remarks it was a fun place. Linda agreed, but Mum and Dad wanted some coffee. The girls placed their bags and parents at the coffee house and ran off. The funhouse was fun, crazy, leaning stairs, that made you feel like the house moved beneath your feet, dreamy butterflies in semi-dark rooms, tubes and barrels trying to knock you off your feet, rolling pathways in different speeds, squirts of water and the hamster wheel for people - that was the best part. They spent a long time inside, and when they finally left the grille of course sent up jets of air lifting their skirts. Stretching and straightening their skirts they laughed and squinted in the sunshine.

"Hey let's go and try the Wheel of Fortune," Linda said, I'd like to win some nice things."
"Nice things?" Susan answered doubtfully. "Normally I only win small teddies or a plastic Snoopy or some such. I am not lucky as you or aunt Dina. But if you really want to, then let's try."
"I do," Linda said, "somebody from my class told me that you could even win records there."
The wheel of fortune was on the corner farthest away from the coffee shop. Behind the big wheel were shelves filled with prizes. On the floor stood crates of mini teddies, soap bubbles, colour crayons, and plastic Snoopies, these were consolation prizes. The prizes got bigger and better on the shelves. The lowest shelf was marked 3rd prize and contained many playthings and small bottles of wine and canned goods and nylon stockings. The middle shelf contained bigger versions of everything plus some jigsaw puzzles. The topmost shelf had a red sign with 1st prize in golden lettering. It was a veritable treasure trove, it held electrical appliances, two toned horns, liquor bottles, enormous teddy bears, big boxes of chocolate and as Linda had said even records. They stood for a while looking at the prizes.

"Wow," Linda said. "They even have some brand new records. Look at that! They have  Boney M's Nightflight to Venus. I'm going to die if I win it."
"Well, then. Let's try." Susan said. "Why don't you try first?"
Linda looked at the prizes, the wheel and at the numbered squares fastened to the counter. "How do I do?" Linda asked.
The man in the booth explained: "One number cost you 50 øre. You place the coin on your chosen number or numbers, then I turn the wheel, and if the outer wheel stops at your number you've won. The inner wheel tells what price. If your number's not chosen, you can have a consolation prize from the baskets."
The outer wheel had the numbers 1-50 in different colours, corresponding to the plaques on the counter repeated four times over. The inner wheel had first prize, second prize, and third prize written many times over. There were way more 3rd prizes than any of the others, and four golden segments proclaimed 'Free choice'.
Linda deliberated for a short wile, then she placed her coin on the lower left of the red plaque, covering the number 2. The man turned the wheel, and a fat lady dressed in emerald green placed some coins at other numbers. The man in the stall said in that sing song voice preferred by his kind: "The wheel's still turning, place your coins, win a prize!" but there were no more takers.

While the wheel turned, Susan looked at the top shelf, and found a record she wanted. Shu-bi-dua's 78'eren. It was new as well, not as new as Boney M's but still.  Susan wanted to win. She never had any luck. But now Linda was playing. The wheel started slowing down, the small rubber pointer could be heard hitting the marking pins. It went  Flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, and gradually slower flap ... flap ... flap ... flap until with a final flap it stood still at number 2. The inner wheel turned a bit more, then it too stopped. And it showed one of the tiny golden squares with Free choice. A dazed looking Linda asked for the Record she wanted, and the man handed it to her with a strained smile.
The next two rounds, the man raked in some coin from other people while Susan got her courage up to play. The man handed out dreadful plastic toys and small packs of crayons to  the looser. The emerald green lady looked a bit downcast as she accepted the third handful of consolation prizes.

Finally Susan placed her small coin on the blue plaque covering up the number 8; the emerald lady placed bigger coins in the middle of several plaques, to indicate that she bought all the numbers on the plaque for that game. Once again the man spun the wheel, and in his sing song voice urged people to place their bets. Susan waited, and the flapping noise from the pointer hitting the pins seemed to fill up the whole world. Flap, flap ... flap. It was a blue number. Susan rubbed her eyes. 8 it said.
"You won too!" Linda yelled. "and free choice too!" Linda jumped up and down. Susan could not believe her luck. The owner of the stall could not either.
"What do you want?" He asked in an intimidating manner.
"I'd like the record by Shu-bi-dua, please." Susan said in a quavering voice.
The man took the record and handed it to Susan: "Here you are."
"Thanks a lot!" Susan said.
"And now! Off you go girls!" The man said in a loud, angry voice. "You've won too much today already. I'm loosing money on customers like you!" The emerald lady tried to get a word in, but Susan and Linda took their records and ran off as quickly as they could.


They returned to Mum and Dad who had just finished their coffee.
"We're in luck today!" Linda called. Look what I won, and Susan won a record too.
"The man was mad at us for winning," Susan said, "but we did not do anything wrong, did we?"
"What did you do?" Mum asked, and Linda and Susan recounted their incredible luck."
"No, you did not do anything wrong," Mum said. "The man was just disappointed at loosing."
"And maybe he was angry with himself for not cheating," Dad added. "Most fortune wheels has a hidden contraption to stop it where the owner wants it to stop. And he forgot to press it. The chances of both of you getting those golden free choice for the smallest possible stakes must be very slim indeed."

The small family went out into the surrounding woods and opened their picnic basket. After eating Mum insisted on them cleaning the area for egg peels and tin foil and straws. "You can leave the apple cores under the bushes, but all other thing you have to put back in the basket. No need to be a litterbug."
"It's something chronic." Linda said. Susan only smiled, she still could not believe her luck.


"You two lucky birds. Let's all go and put a bet at the Chocolate Derby. I'd like some chocolate." Mum said smiling at Susan and Linda.
It was of course not real horses. A lady stood in the middle of a circular stall, where some wooden horses ran at the end of long arms. You made your bet by putting a coin in a numbered slot. This activated a light at the slot and at the horse with the same number. The winning horse gave the owner a small chocolate bar or box of chocolates. The house won often when not all horses were accounted for.
The lady in the emerald dress was there as well. She saw the girls enter and smiled: "Well now you're here I'd better leave.  You'll win it all." She waved off their feeble tries at an excuse. "You're just lucky today. Nothing wrong with that." She stayed and played, and lost more  than she won.
Mm, Dad, Linda and Susan all won small boxes of cheap, but good chocolate at the Horse races. They ate and shared those on their way home by car.

tirsdag den 21. maj 2019

Busser og biletter igen-igen + short summary in English.

Another rant about buses, timetables and so on. 
This time we tried following the printed instructions on how to buy a ticket on the bus stop. We wantet to help our guests buy a ticket back home. Luckily I had taken a photo of the bus stop. We sat out of the rain in our home, and was sent from here to there on the internet, but no no awail. We never got any tickets. 

Så er den gal med busser, biletter, køreplaner og så videre igen. 

Forleden dag havde vi gæster. Da de skulle hjem igen, ville de købe en mobilbillet, for de havde kun en større pengeseddel. Jeg havde jo heldigvis taget et billede af stoppestedet, så vi kunne sidde hjemme i tørvejr og gøre det.

Her er, hvad man får af vejledning.

Jeg repeterer lige - det kan være svært at se:
Send en SMS til 1415 med startzone, antal zoner og billettype (f.eks 1 2 v for en 2-zoners voksenbillet fra zone 2) ... Du skal købe og modtage din billet, inden du stiger på bussen.
Startzone: Tjek: 36
Antal zoner:  ???
Det kan man ikke længere se på stoppestedet. Hvor er mit zonekort? Det er væk, jeg kan i hvert fald ikke lige finde det i farten. Kig på under zonekort:
Her falder mit blik straks på: Rejseplanen under Prisinfo.

Ind på Rejseplanen ... skulle her ikke at stå antal zoner et eller andet sted ...  lede, lede, lede...
Vis pris går jeg ud fra er "Prisinfo". Masser af prisinfo, men ingen zoner. 

Ahaaa! Hvis man trykker på den der lille knap, kommer der et zonekort ind over.
Tryk på dimesen for enden af den røde pil, for at få et zonekort lagt ind over det normale kort.
Så må jeg tælle. Det er vist nok 13.
Altså 36 13 v til 1415
Nej, det går ikke. Vi får besked om at det kan man ikke. Hvorfor nu ikke det???
Vores gæster må så bare håbe på at buschaufføren kan give tilbage på deres pengeseddel.

PS: Billeder og søgninger dækker ikke den rigtige dag. Der havde jeg for travlt med at finde rundt til at tage skærmdump.

PPS: Videregående studier fortalte mig, at man kun kan købe SMSbiletter til mellem 2 og 8 zoner. Ren idioti. 

mandag den 20. maj 2019

Poetry Monday :: My favourite food

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is My Favourite Food (courtesy of Jenny).

Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey has set the topic this Monday. Last Monday she told us how she's got to evict a poem or song before she's able to produce something of her own. And here I thought that I was alone in having to sing songs to the end or look up a half forgotten poem or search for an old book before being able to go on. 
It seems we're not all that unique after all. 😊😌

-- 😋 --
This Monday's topic, my favourite food of course made a song run through my brain the second I read it. I'm sure you all know My Favourite Things from The Sound of Music.
This song, and indeed the whole musical, is one of my favourite things. Maria even tells us of her favourite foods in this song:
"...  Cream colored ponies and crisp Apfelstrudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things."
I am not a big fan of Schnitzel with noodle or indeed Apfelstrudel, I always have a hard time when asked for my favourite food because:

My favourite food
Depends on my mood.
It's different each day.

My favourite food
Is whatever is brewed
In our kitchen today. 

And don't think just because the verse is short, that it was quick to write. I think I used more time on this one (well sheer copying time maybe subtracted) than on the very long Awakening.

fredag den 17. maj 2019

Imagine - apropos a Facebook meme

 I wrote this years ago. Now it seems more in place than when I wrote it.

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one
 - John Lennon, 1971.

I have no problem imagining all these things. My problem is imaginig all these things simultaneously. Because this calls for a world filled with idealistic, altruistic people, who always opt for the common good. And history - and a simple look inside myself - tells me that humankind is not made like this. Or rather, we were made like this, then something happened. What that something was, what to call it, we do not agree. Some tell us the story of a snake and an apple, some tell us about shadows outside a cave, some about gods with many arms and gargantuan appetites, some about private property. But the fall of Man exists everywhere.
After this fall it's only the hope of reward or the fear of punishment, that makes people behave.
A brotherhood of man means that we have a common father, but mostly we act as a fatherles bunch.

 Eliza Jane gives a speech on her first day about how she intends to rule by love, not fear: "Birds in their little nests agree!. Laura and her friends find it embarrassing and don't think it will go over well when the older boys start schoollater in autumn ... as it turns out, they're all too right. (Somewhere in the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder cited and translated from memory)

Naughty Soap 3

Today the naughty soap has cured and set, at least partially. It was de-moulded.
Sæben i dag, parat til at blive skåret

First the outer wooden mould was taken apart - it is built for this purpose.
Træformen kan skrues fra hinanden

Then the inner liner was removed, revealing a still layered soap in spite of my stirrings.
I made it bi-colour by adding spirulina powder to the last half of the soap mass before pouring. I suppose this might have helped bring on the volcanic activity.
Inderformen fjernes.
Sæben er stadig tofarvet, selvom jeg rørte rundt i den i går

The wooden mould serves a double purpose, it is a cutting box as well. If you embiggen the photo you can see the scored lines, I use for guide when cutting.
Formen er også skærekasse.
Linjerne lader mig skære sæberne lige store.

Cutting happens. Maybe it is a cheese slicer, maybe it was made for truffles. I found it on a flea market and it is perfect for the cutting of soap.
Dimsen, jeg skærer med er måske en ostehøvl - eller måske en trøfelskærer.
Den er i hvert fald perfekt til at skære sæbe med.

Here some of the cut soaps are laid out. The two top right are darker, more sombre. I had to take a break in cutting. They are oxidized. This will eventually happen to all the soaps.
De to øverst til højre har stået lidt og er iltet.
De ender alle sammen med at se sådan ud.

Stamping - I know from earlier years that I just can not remember which soap was what later on. W means Waldmeister, the German word for Sweet woodruffs, as the Danish letter B (for bukkar) is used for birch soaps.
The letters are parts of a BBQ meat branding iron I bought on clearance just because I liked it.
Man kan bare ikke huske hvilken sæbe, der er hvad.
W er for Waldmeister, det tyske ord for bukkar, eftersom B betyder birk.

The first and last slice of the soap bar are trial soaps, I have to try out the amount of pressure necessary for a clear imprint.
Sometimes I just feel like fooling around with other stamps, or maybe one of the Owlets wants to try his hand at stamping ;)
No soap leaves my house as a gift or in any other way before I have been bathing with one of these end slices and approved it.
Endeskiverne er til forsøg. Her er det en Ugleunge, der har fået lov at lege.
De kommer med i bad til godkendelse før sæberne forlader huset.
The soap here is still somewhat harsh. It'll have to cure for four to six weeks before I'll start using it. And during these weeks the sweet woodruff will do its magic trick. Right now the soap smells from nothing except lye, that is a smell most people associate with "clean". But some times during the coming weeks, I'll enter the room where the soaps are curing on racks and the sweet smell of spring will reach me.
How or why this happens, I have no idea. Woodruff is the only plant I have found so far giving a natural scent to soaps.
When the soaps are cured they will have a clean up. I'll bevel the edges, cut off any protruding corners and remove the burrs from the W's.
Then they're ready for use.
-- 🌿 --

Sæben her er stadig skrap mod  hænderne. Den skal stå i 4 til 6 uger og modne. I det tidrum vil bukkaren også udøve sin magi. Lige nu lugter sæberne kun af lud - en lugt de fleste siger bare lugter rent - men pluselig en dag kommer jeg ind i uglehulen, hvor sæberne ligger, og så dufter der grønt, af forår. Hvordan det sker, aner jeg ikke og bukkar er også den eneste plante, der kan få sæber til at dufte helt af sig selv.

torsdag den 16. maj 2019

Naughty Soap 2

I see from the comments to yesterday's post, that I am taking for granted that everybody knows how to make soap. It is professional blindnes or whatever it's called in English.
-- 🗨 --
    For en forklaring på dansk, se min sæbeblog om vulkansæber.

Here is the photo once again. It is a soap, I'm making.
I start by mixing lye (NaOH) and water (in this case woodruff tea) in one pot, and melting the fats, beeswax and oils in another
Then those are combined, stirred and poured in a mould when they begin to thicken.
After being put in the mould, the soap will heat up somewhat. This is the chemical process of turning fats and lye into soap, known as saponification. Sometimes the process runs a bit wild. That is what is happening here. The soap is overheating, becoming liquid and also darker, just like a volcano making ready for an eruption.

This photo, taken half an hour later, clearly shows how liquid the soap has become. I stirred it, because the corners do not normally heat up, leading to funny markings on some of the soaps.

This process is known as gelling, it is a sought after occurrence because the soap is then ready for use after de-moulding and cutting. This will happen tomorrow.
The soap will be better, have more longevity, after curing and dehydrating for 1 to 6 weeks. But I can use it tomorrow, only it's still kind of soft and bendy.
Photos of de-moulding and cutting will follow tomorrow.

onsdag den 15. maj 2019

Bare for sjov - Just for fun

     I dag lavede Uglemor bukkarsæbe. Den var meget uartig. Mon ikke den burde vaske munden med sæbe.

-- 😝 --

Today MotherOwl was soaping. Making cold process soap with sweet woodruffs for the smell. It was a naughty soap. Soap go wash your mouth with soap ..

Words for Wednesday -- Unicorn Farm - The End

  In May 2019 Margaret Adamson, and her friend Sue Fulcher are providing the prompts. They will be published by Elephant's Child.

 This week's prompts are two photos. I use only the first one. It is with trembling fingers I hit the Publish button.

Photo no. 1

Susan was in hospital for a long time. When she finally left, she was weak as a kitten, and allowed only short walks. Each day she walked a bit further.  She was bored, she could not read much, visitors tired her out, and she had almost no appetite. School had to wait. Her teacher came once or twice a week and tried to teach her, but she could do no math at all,  and her spelling was as usual so excellent, that there was no idea in training. It ended with the teacher mostly keeping Susan up to date with happenings in the school and in the world at large. Her voice was a deep alto, soothing to Susan's poor brain and not loud enough to bring on more headaches.
Slowly Susan was able to walk for longer bits, but her appetite and genral wellbeing were far from good.

In the Autumn holidays the weather was so exceptionally good, that mum and dad had the idea of one last trip to the Summer house on the Island. "You know, aunt Dina and uncle Kurt have decided to sell the house." Mum said.
"I think you told me, yes," Susan answered. "what a pity. now it is finished and everything, I mean. It is such a wonderful place, free and wild."

One of the last days there, Susan and her dad went for a walk. They came to the end of a paved road, and a house in two mirrored sections lay enclosed by naked stone dikes. 
"That house over there," Susan said, "that's a new one, isn't it?"
"Yes," dad said. "It was built while you were in hospital. Don't you remember the old one, it was low, yellow, thatched I think. It had a funny name. It burned the night your friends disappeared. All the trees were damaged in the fire as well. They had to remove them too."
"No," Susan said, "I don't remember. I don't remember much after our journey down here in the beginning of the summer holidays. I remember eating pancakes the first morning. I remember being very happy inside. I still feel that way ... just a bit. But I don't remember much more."
"Don't worry Susan," Dad said, patting her back. "The doctor said that your memory might continue to improve for a very long time. Concussions are unpredictable."

tirsdag den 14. maj 2019

Håb -- Hope

     I går var det "Poetry Monday". Dagens emne var håb. Men Uglemor glemte at tale om en af de mest fantastiske og stædige former for håb der findes i denne verden: Et frø.
-- 🌱 --
Yesterday was Poetry Monday, and the theme was Hope. MotherOwl in her moping corner forgot to talk about one of the most common and most persistent forms of hope. The one packed in a seed.

- - -

   I går såede Uglemor endnu flere frø. Solhat, skønhedsøje, gamle japansk Indigo - det er at håbe mod bedre vidende, da de ikke skulle kunne spire. Men håbet lever, og Uglemor håber at frøene lever op til det.
-- 🌱 --
Yesterday MotherOwl sowed even more seeds. Purple coneflower, tickseed and dyer's knotweed. The last one from old seeds -- hoping against wisdom, as the do not normally germinate when old.  But MotherOwl hopes that the flowers will all grow and be as pretty and prolific as in her mind right now.

mandag den 13. maj 2019

Poetry Monday :: Hope

 Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Hope. (courtesy of Delores).

I have not written a serious take on Hope, as maybe I should have considering looming ecological disasters, upcoming elections with known racists trying to get elected and so on, and so on. But it is not going to happen. This time I wanted to try an idea, rattling around in my old brain. Namely find all the words rhyming with the given word and make a rambling nonsensical verse in the style of the Danish Halfdan Rasmussen and the American Dr. Seuss. It was what Jenny-o did last Monday, and with much more luck than my feeble lines.

Full of  hope
you can cope
And say nope
to the dope
It's a slippery slope!

In the bathroom we grope
for the last bit of soap
at the end of the rope.
And when lovers elope
and the grey antelope
sends a red envelope
to the monkeys that mope.
It's beyond even the scope
of a friendly old pope.
To bring reason and hope
to this wacky old trope
of an old misanthrope.

søndag den 12. maj 2019

Fundne Sager -- Lost and Found

  En kommentar fra Pia sendte Uglemor ud på en længere flyvetur i internettets afkroge. Derude landede hun i Waterfox og slog sig ned og begyndte at bygge rede. Nu justerer hun lige et par grene her og der og pudser fjerene efter flyveturen, men det føles allerede meget hjemligt.
     Der er et par ting, der stadig ikke virker. Blandt andet den danske stavekontrol, så bær over med mig, hvis der er flere stavefejl end sædvanligt. Og så er der altså noget med farver og dimser her på bloggen. Her, i Waterfox er hjerter, salmialkker og rosen sort/hvide, kun ræven er i farver. Det er anderledes i andre browsere. Uglemor fatter ikke noget.
-- 🦊 -- 
A comment from Pia sent MotherOwl down a rabbit hole ending in MotherOwl building a new nest with the Waterfox. Now she's happily shifting branches and fluffing her feathers, it already feels a lot like home. One strange thing, all the small thingies, MotherOwl is using between text blocks have somehow lost their colours. The fox is in colour, but the heart, the diamonds and the rose is black and white - not so in Firefox. MotherOwl is clueless.

-- 🔹💛🔹 --

     De to gule roser Uglemor skrev om i A-Zudfordringen er søreme overlevet. Og den tredje, som Uglemor havde opgivet, men ikke smidt ud endnu fik også små, grønne skud.
-- 🌹 --
The two yellow roses that were the subject for R in the i A-Z Challenge did indeed survive. And the third one, placed in a corner, but not totally forgotten, surprised by producing fresh, green leaves as well.

De to gule roser i potten har det fint  - 🌹-The two yellow roses in the big pot has really grown
Den 3. rose er også i live, den får også sin egen potte - 🌹- The third rose is alive as well. It will get its own pot soon.

lørdag den 11. maj 2019

Et par billeder -- Some Photos

     Uglemor kæmper stadig med browsere, tilføjelser, bogmærker og den slags. Men helt uden at blogge. går det ikke. Uglemor har været i gang med en del projekter i de forgangne dage - lyder det bekendt? Her er nogle billeder fra Uglemors liv.
-- 💻 --
MotherOwl is still fighting browsers, extensions, bookmarks and all that. But life without blogging is not MotherOwl's style. Projects have been begun. Does this sound like something we've heard before?
Here is a stack of photos from MotherOwl's life the last week or so.
If this post contains more typos than normally, it is because one of the extensions, that won't work as it used to, is the spellchecker.

En nyudsprungen askegren. Heldigvis sprang den ud før de lokale egetræer, det skulle betyde sol til sommer
-- ☼ --
An ashen branch with newly unfurled leaves. It was quicker thn the local oaks. According to an old saying this promises us lots of Sun in the coming summer.

Blomster og knopper fra Uglemors have:                         Flowers and buds from MotherOwl's garden:
Hyld, hvidtjørn og rabarber                                                                               Elder, hawthorn, rhubarb
Mælkebøtte, sødskærm (pausemonsteret)                                              Dandelion, cicely (the monster)
Jordbærblomster, der har fået frost                                                    Strawberries, damaged by the frost
Æblegren, horsetidsel, asketræ.                                                               Apple bough, spear thistle, ash.

En mælkebøtte. Billederne er taget henholdsvis på vej til og fra bussen på indkøb. Tallene i toppen er tiden for optagelsen.
-- 💛 --

A dandelion on my way to the bus and home again. The numbers on top is the time stamp.

Vejrudsigten for i morgen lover trist vejr
-- 😦 --
The forecast for tomorrow: Sad weather. ( - means better weather)

     Den hashi-bukuro alle stumperne kommer fra. Applikationen forestiller en fuurin - en vindharpe af glas - en japansk sommerting.
-- 🎐 --
The hashi-bukuro all the ORTs came from. The applique is a fuurin - a Japanese wind chime, a symbol of summer.

     Uglemor og Piraten såede squash og græskar. De spirer nu, og hvilke nogle spirer!
-- 🌱 --
MotherOwl and the Pirate sowed courgette and pumpkin seeds. They're sprouting now. Giant sprouts!

torsdag den 9. maj 2019

Susan - Holidays at home

In May 2019 Margaret Adamson, and her friend Sue Fulcher are providing the prompts. They will be published by Elephant's Child. She tells us that This week's prompts are familiar phrases

Sun over the yardarm

And/ or

Going commando

Those two phrases were not familiar to me - I rest somewhat reassured because they seemed to be totally unknown to a lot of English speaking participants in this fun as well. I used a dictionary and discovered that the sun is over the yardarm means that it is late enough in the day to drink alcoholic beverages, and to be going commando is to go without underwear - I suppose mostly without underpants. In the seventies we had a Danish pop hit called "I'll never go commando at the ball!"  
This led me to this cameo from Susan's non-magical life. 
The time is somewhere late in the first or early in the second year at The Unicorn Farm.

Friday was a national holiday. Tomorrow, Saturday, the family was going to an amusement park near Copenhagen.
They had needed money, well mostly Linda and Susan had, and the idea of a flea market had spawned in one of their discussions.
The sun was shining, and at 10 o'clock everything was ready. Susan and Linda had their small corner with surplus toys, comics and books. Mum and Dad had filled the rest of the tables with plates, pillows, bric-a-brac, books and beer.

Most of their family was present, and some neighbours and passers by as well. The passers by bought items for sale or looked at them at least, The neighbours had come for to talk it seemed, and the uncles were mostly in it for the beer.

Uncle Freddy yelled: "Folks, the sun is over the yardarm, let's have some beer."

"Oh, look at this!" Uncle Theodore said loudly to Susan. "This LP, I just love it - she states that she'll never go commando again. See, she's hitching up the skirt to give us a glimpse. I love her. Are you going commando tomorrow? I'd like to wait for you outside the funhouse if you do." Uncle Theodore's beery breath hit Susan's face, and she turned her head away. "Oh, playing shy we are," he added with a raucous laugh, pinching her cheek. Susan took her leave of uncle Theodore, claiming customers in her corner of the flea market.

tirsdag den 7. maj 2019

TUSAL maj 2019

     Uglemor flyver stadig rundt fra den ene browser til den anden. Der er ikke nogen, der er rigtig gode længere, men der skal jo ske et eller andet.  
     Da Uglemor så skulle ud og lukke for hønsene i aftes så månen sådan her ud.
-- 🌛 --
MotherOwl is still flying from one browser to the next, trying them for their nesting properties. None of them are greatly satisfying, even after extensions and customizing.
But MotherOwl is not sitting in front of the computer all day long, other thing happen as well.
As MotherOwl went out to shut the hens in for the night, the Moon looked like this.

      Og da Uglemor så så havde kameraet fremme og kom i tanke om at nymåne jo betyder TUSAL - så måtte det jo tages et billede af stumperne også.
     Uglemor undskylder for den lidet charmerende baggrund. En hvid plastikpose var det der var i nærheden. Alle de her stumper stammer fra fabrikationen af hashi-bukuro - stof-etuier til spisepinde. Mere om dem i de kommende dage.
-- 📍 -- 
And now I had found the camera, and remembered that new noon means TUSAL. I had to find my ORTs and snap a photo of those as well.
Excuse the very un-flattering plastic bag used as backdrop.  All these ORTs come from the sewing of hashi-bukuro - wrappers for chopsticks, more about those later. 

Mere om Hashi-bukuro her.  -- 📍-- More about Hashi-bukuro here.

mandag den 6. maj 2019


Uglemor beklager. På grund af alt bøvlet med Mozilla Firefox, addons der ikke kan bruges osv., er Uglemor fløjet fra Firefox og er nu ved at finde sig en ny rede. Det kan vare nogle dage, før det hele bliver normalt igen.
I får et pause-monster til at kigge på så længe.

MotherOwl is sorry. All the trouble with Mozilla Firefox updating/not updating their addons, has made MotherOwl stretch her wings and fly away from the Firefox. She's now testing new nesting places, and it might be some days before normal owlish behavior will be resumed.
Here's a pause-monster to look at in the meantime.

Poetry Monday :: Shoes

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Shoes. (courtesy of Jenny).

I wrote a poem in my head, assured that I would remember it, as I did with the longish Awakening. But next day only two lines remained in my brain. I felt very sorry for myself, and have tried to re-build, re-construct and re-anything this poem but to no avail. I had to make a new one. It is not as good as the old one, but it is here:

Of  shoes I know a thing or ten,
They often come in pair.
And though it happens now and then,
They're seldom solitaire.

They touch the ground
in leaps and bound
or shuffle when we're old.

You can wear shoe
If they fit you,
Or live in one, I'm told.

They need a grease
whene'er you please.
And more when they get old.

They can be blue,
and yellow too.
Some even come in gold.

They close with zippers, buttons, strings
with lace or Velcro-things.
When all is said and truth will out
I'll rather go without.

onsdag den 1. maj 2019

Words for Wednesday - The Beginnings 5

 In May 2019 Margaret Adamson, and her friend Sue Fulcher are providing the prompts. They will be published by Elephant's Child.

 This week's prompts are


Oops. I only noticed the first set of  prompts today, and I used only five of those. 
Actually I already had written today's chapter in advance. The words were already in the text or fit in seamlessly. except for machine.
Erm, maybe I'll have to use the rest in a later instalment ... 
Here's the other half: 

Anyway I just continued the story about Susan's first visit to Unicorn Farm. 

I need help. In Danish we distinguish easily between people pulling rabbits out of hats and coins from peoples' ears: Tryllekunstnere, and those changing people into cats and making strawberries grow and ripe in minutes: Troldmænd. I can't seem to grasp this difference in English. Except from calling the first kind stage magicians, as opposed to the real ones.
All this translating and editing in English do indeed help me realize that I can't translate passages, that I have not yet finished to some degree. Fuzzy, sketchy or foggy passages in Danish turn meaningless when I try to translate them. This is showing me the weak spots in my writings. And it is a great eye opener, and an exercise I would recommend every writer knowing a second language.


As Thora had foreseen, Linda had had so much fun with the children from near by, farm that she talked all through the evening meal. Mom and Dad didn't have time to question  Susan how the summer school had been, they were satisfied by her "very nice!". Neither did they wonder why she was even quieter than she used to be. Linda's horse magazine also included a small gift. A small suitcase with miniature horses inside. When you opened the suitcase there was a tiny barn and a riding track inside. Linda's fingers and eyes were busy as well, and she let Susan have her stick to herself.
After dinner, the adult continued the ritual with soda, Campari and the Olympics. Linda was tired, and Mom sent her to bed early. Susan sat outside on the patio with her stick. She sat watching the setting sun bring colour to the clouds and let the fingers run up and down the stick feeling all the little smiles in the bark.
"A magic wand ..." she thought. "Maybe I can conjure up rabbits out of hats or flowers out of silk scarves just like the magician at the party." She shook her head. Magicians were cheats, everyone said so. They couldn't do magic at all. It was done with invisible strings, mirrors and dexterity. What she had seen today could not be explained away like that. She swung the stick tentatively through the air, just like she had seen the wizards do at the Unicorn Farm. She could feel the joy flowing through her, and suddenly small greenish and white sparks sprang from the end of the wand. She almost dropped it. Quietly she went to bed. She would not ruin the evening by trying more.

* * *

Next morning, Susan woke up very early. At first she could not understand why she was in such an exceptional mood. Then she remembered it all and was afraid that it had only been a dream. She closed her eyes again and saw the strange people, Torben's beautiful beard, the black man who looked like a pirate, the tow headed twins with all the friendly wrinkles. The children from all the Nordic countries, the undressing and selection. It was far too long and detailed for to be a dream.
"My wand!" she thought, and her hands groped under the quilt until her fingers closed on the slender stick, and a smile spread on her face. It was real! Linda turned over with that little grunt that usually annoyed Susan no end, but today she only smiled indulgently.
After breakfast, Susan told that there were others from the summer school who lived nearby and that she would go together with them to school today. As soon as Mom and dad nodded, she ran out of the door and found her way to the small, yellow farmhouse up the road. It was one of the few houses in the area that was not a summer house. 
Susan noticed the door rapper. It was formed a bit like a pirate's flag only with an old fashioned top hat for the scull, and two cross-laid wands below with stars sprinkled around it. She hesitantly raised it and let it fall. Shortly a friendly-looking lady with long, brown curls dressed in a sunshine yellow dress opened the door. "You must be Susan. I'm Sandra, mother of Heidi, Lis and Tage. They told us about you last night. Do come in and wait for them."
Susan thanked her and went in. It was a small, cosy home, filled with strange objects. It was not messy, just very, very full. There was a fireplace, with a small, but warm fire, and near the fire a man sat in a rocking chair with his lap full of balls of fuzzy, grey yarn. He had a long, pointed beard, Susan remembered having seen such a beard before. As the man caught sight of Susan, he moved and all the yarn balls fell on the floor. They jumped and scuttled around, and Susan realized that it was not balls of yarn at all, but baby rabbits.
"Kai at your service!" he said, bowing to Susan. He was dressed in a bottle green dressing gown with purple, flowery patterns and big, sky blue buttons.
"Kai, you're scaring the girl," Sandra warned, but Susan was too curious to be really scared. Her eyes went all over. There were quirky flower bouquets in vases, silk scarves hung out to dry on a string in front of the stove and there were at least 10 wands in a disorderly pile on the table.
"The magician from the party," Susan gasped. "But ... how. I mean ... why? uh ..." Susan fell silent.
Kai laughed quietly. "Isn't it the easiest way to hide my magic? I mean, nobody believes that stage magicians really use magic, they know it's all cheating and sleight of hand. But I'm the real thing." He laughed even louder, an infectious laugh and both Sandra and Susan laughed with him. At the same time, Lis and Tage came bumping down the stairs.
"You're late. Where's Heidi?" said Kai still smiling. Susan breathed deeply to stop the bubbling laugh, and looked up when Heidi came in from the garden.
"I dropped one of my hair bands, the ones with blue balls and it fell out of the window. Now it's gone," she complained, "Oh! Hello Susan, good to see you again."
"Mom, why can't we use magic, just a little bit. It would be so easy to find my hair band myself."
"Stop pestering me, Heidi," Sandra sighed, "I do understand how you feel, and yes, it would be great, if only to stop you bothering me. But no! And that's final."
Kai stopped his index fingers all the way into the ears with the other fingers pointing in all directions. "I'll find it. Don't you worry." He grabbed a wand from the table and went out into the garden. There was a loud bang. and when he returned inside, his face was black. He laughed again and the kids and Sandra laughed with him.
Kai looked dramatic. "It was one of the wands I use for the performances," he laughed, "Sandra, you must find it."
Sandra walked into the doorway, pulled out her magic wand and muttered a spell. Heidi's hair band sprang up from the grass and landed in Sandra's outstretched hand. She handed it to Heidi. "Here you are, honey. And now scram, you'll be late."
Heidi hurriedly wrapped the hair band around her pig tail and the four children went smartly along the path towards the Unicorn Farm.

"Are your parents real magicians?" asked Susan.
"Yes!" Tage and Lis answered simultaneously. Heidi, who had anticipated this, nodded energetically.
"Mom always boasts that they both descend from ancient wizard families. They are related to all the well-known witches in history, all the way back to Merlin and the ancient Greeks." It was Tage who replied, and Lis continued: "But Dad works as you saw as a stage magician, and Mother takes a turn at the local Supermarket when it is needed. That is not very magic."
"Isn't it great to be able to do magic?" Susan asked.
"You heard what Mum said," Lis replied, "we're not allowed to do any magic at all, even though Tage is very good at it."
"She's scared to be found out  and burned at the stake. No, I don't mean that," Tage said, "the stake, that is. She's afraid of being found out. Then something terrible will happen," she says. 
"Yes, that's how she is," Heidi said. "But I'm looking forward to the summer school. We're going to do loads of magic."

Det man lover ... kan man ikke altid holde

Not always keeping my promises.
I promised to say nothing more about buses and timetables, but now the new updates has arrived. It is even worse than I feared. A rant with an English test in the end.  I suppose you can - as Elephant's Child says - embiggen the photos by clicking on them.

--    🚏   --

     Jeg lovede jo at jeg ikke ville sige mere om busser, køreplaner og "serviceforbedringer". Men nu er de nye køreplaner kommet. Og ud over at der præcis som jeg frygtede ville ske, er kommet uannoncerede køreplansændringer på en af vore ruter, så er det værre end jeg frygtede. Dette er fra den ikke-ændrede. De andre foto var for ringe

Prøv at kigge her:

Table 1.
Hvornår går bussen?  Vi går lige lidt tættere på.
Close up of table 1
Ja, hvornår mon?

Og for at føje spot til skade får vi opdateret tavlerne hvert andet år. Hvad, fik du ikke det med? Det står skam lige her.
Close up of the small print in table 1.
Og vi har endnu tilgode at opleve et år, der ikke bringer mindst to fornyelser i køreplanerne.
Det her er ringe, det er værre end ubrugeligt!
Nedenunder er så den sædvanlige svada med at man kan sende en SMS, ringe (og hænge i kø i det uendelige) eller bruge den uduelige rejseplan.

--    🚏   --

If you ever come visiting me, you've better rent a car. These two yellow timetables are all you have to find out when the bus is leaving. I suppose that your mobile phone provider is not Danish.

And then: Updated every 2nd year. We have yet to see a year that brings less than two changes to the timetables.

Test: When will the bus be leaving Friday afternoon?