Working stiff

In three and a half weeks in Denmark, I've had two job prospects. I may be teaching a couple of "applied grammar" courses to some German college freshmen here at the Southern University of Denmark -- back to the land of present perfect, conditional past, imperatives, superlatives, infinitives and participles. (I am a total scream at cocktail parties, believe me.) It would be a something of a hoot, and it would get me out from under my computer for a few hours each week, so I'm hopeful and awaiting official word about this possibility.

My other prospect came on our third day here in Sonderborg. We were at the grocery store, still fairly culture-shocked and nervous that people would actually SPEAK to us. Don got up the guts to ask a fellow shopper about a sign in the store, and she turned out to be British and quite helpful. We finished our shopping and made it outside, and Davina was still breathlessly at our side. A very kind gal, she quizzed Don on his musicianship, how he got hired, the audition, his background and take on Denmark thus far, and then she asked me about my workaday world. After explaining myself as a newly minted writer, she asked if I would be interested in working with her doing cleaning at the local psychiatric hospital. I thanked her and told her I needed to work on my writing. Like, constantly. She told me to contact her if I changed my mind and that the grounds there, a former castle, were very lovely, and it could all be arranged "quickly and quietly." Then she hopped on her bike and pedaled off into the Danish drizzle.

I am not making this stuff up.