I had to attend a Swedish event last Friday. It was not so fun.
My partner unit has been a part of a stock club for a while. That's right, these five boys get together and buy stocks. They currently are up about 140,000 SEK (about $17,000 or 15,000 Euros). The plan is to buy a summer house in the Swedish countryside to share.
Boy, am I excited. Nothing like living in the mosquito-infested woods in a house with no plumbing, no cell phone coverage, and no electricity (summer houses in Sweden generally have none of these). Sign me up! Whoo-boy, talk about fun! Look, John-Boy I am not. I have no problem with camping, roughing it, etc, but sharing a house with four other couples and dealing with their latrine issues is about as fun as going to my dentist. At least there he promises sexual action.
Anyway, the wives all joined for this meeting, too. I say wives, although they were almost all girlfriends (remember, the Swedes are not big on marriage), so I was only one of two wives. I was also the only one without kids, and the youngest woman there by a good number of years-they were 56, 43, 43, and 35. And right away, the men go off with a few bottles of wine and their stock documents. I get stuck with the women. The following was discussed:
- child care anecdotes
- how inferior the American maternity leave system is
- child care anecdotes
- golf
- child care anecdotes
- how rewarding children are
- child care anecdotes
I don't think I said a single word in those discussions. At one point the hostess asked if she could feed the Evil One (see The Child Debate post from yesterday). I said yes, anything but pork (the only reason he cannot have it is pork products give dogs diarrhea, sometimes. I was not keen on being in that environment with a violently ill dog. Although it would have been a nice distraction.)
"No pork?" she asked, an enormous hot dog in her hands.
"No pork," I replied.
"Why not?"
"The dog's Jewish."
She looked at me funny and walked away.
The children discussion resumed.
At one point, I got up and called my partner over. He ambled over, and I stood on the steps of the house while he came closer. I put my arms around him and pulled him closer. The Poker Boys started making cat calls. The Swedish women started making comments on how lovely it was to see we were still doing so well. My partner unit leaned in close.
"My Darling," I murmered softly, smiling at him. I planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Yes Honey?" he replied, smiling back, smoothing my hair. The Poker Boys were really jeering now.
"If you don't take me out of here I am killing myself and everyone within a three mile radius."
The evening did get better, albeit with lots of alcohol help. One of the girlfriends started to grill me on Swedish history once she learned that I was applying for Swedish citizenship. All I can really say about their history is that they're still pretty pissed off at the Danes for a stunt they pulled about 500 years ago. Forgiving people they are not. Then she asked me about Sten.
"Don't you know who Sten is?" she demanded.
"Er...no." I replied.
"Don't you think you should?"
"Why, do I owe him money?"
"What?"
"What?"
"If you are going to be a citizen, then you should know about our government." she asserted.
"Yeah, I do. Göran Persson is the prime minister." This said, defensively.
"Ugh! don't ever speak his name to me! If so, we cannot be friends."
"Gee, what a shame. Did not know that was on offer."
"You don't know Sten?"
"Oh, we're back to him?"
"Yes."
"No. I don't know him. And you are the scariest woman I have ever met."
"I know. I pride myself on it." she replied, triumphantly. "Now go read about Sten!"
Whatever. You're just old and bitter.
-H.
Posted by Everydaystranger at September 10, 2003 12:45 PM | TrackBack