So, while I try to come up with a new theme for this little blog of mine, I might as well tell you a little bit about what’s happened since I came back from Phoenix.
My first Sunday back home, I baked four cakes and invited people to come and share them with me. The American biscuits were something of a complete failiure, apperently American and Swedish baking powder behave differently, but the Canadian apple pie was just as good as I remembered it from Whiskey Creek Farm. The sun was shining and people came and went as they pleased, just as I like it. The last guest left just before midnight, and then I had leftover cake to eat for breakfast for days after.
I worked in my archive every day for the four weeks in August, but the weekends I spent either at dad’s summer house, or walking around Djurgården with Kirke and her dog Zorro.
There are few places more suitable for walks than Djurgården in the summer. And few persons better suited for walking company than Kirke.
And then, the last thursday in August, I packed step mom Anna’s car full with my books, my yarn and my bike, picked up Kirke outside her office and started driving toward Uppsala.
Moving requires pizza. After emptying the car into my cute, subletted one room apartment, I treated Kirke to veggie pizzas from the pizza restaurant next door. It might not be the best pizza I’ve ever eaten, but hey, I’ve been all around half of Italy. The comparison isn’t fair. It was okay.
So, here I am, in my new home in a new town, on my way into a brand new term at a new university, studying an introductory course in a subject I had only the vaguest idea of. Exciting and scary, all at the same time.
Katja Malmborg 