Julefest at work

Yesterday we celebrated Jule with the children and their parents. We wore nissehuer (santa hats), we played christmas music, ate æbleskiver and småkager (christmas cookies, which were made by the kids), and in the end we danced around the christmas tree and sang songs together in the warm glow of the christmas tree lights.

My story begins and ends before the celebrations. We had eaten our freshly made, warm lunch. We have a køkkendame (a cooking lady) come in and make warm food every day for this season. Normally the children bring lunches with them from home. The lunch, yesterday, was so tastey and just like the food that Grandma (my mom's mom) used to make for Christmas or Thanksgiving. The smell and taste of the food brought back memories from long ago of eating at Grandma and Grandpa's house in the winter: Grandpa with his dentures popping out to gross us out, Grandma with her apron on, Jonathan and I running upstairs to pull the games (pick-up-stix, Mother Maid, Chinese checkers) out of the attic, the warmth of the wood stove in the kitchen. As I began to clean up after the children and put the dishes in the vaskemaskine, I was smacked in the face with homesickness. I missed Grandma and Mom. It amazes me how homesickness can drop like a bomb out of nowhere! Well, I held back the tears and thought about the food. It had been beef. It is really hard to get beef here that is affordable (this meat had been organic and for 28children) and cookable. I couldn't believe how tender this meat was! I wanted to ask the køkkendame what kind of cut it was so I could buy some and make some for David.

I saw her down the hall getting ready to leave (putting her shoes on). I ran down the hall to her and said, "The food today was amazing! Just like my Grandma's back in Canada! What kind of meat did you use? What kind of cut?" She smiled at me but looked a little bewildered. "I was tastey eh?" she said. She started to say something else, but then my colleague, Lone, came running down the hall after me, "Heather!" she said, "That's not the køkkendame! That's Carla's mom!"

I went a little red in the face.

"OH," I said, "You look so much like our køkkendame! I didn't realize! I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it." she said. "I know a lot about food anyways. If you ever have questions, just ask!"

I sped back to finish cleaning, a little humbled that I couldn't tell the difference between a parent and the køkkendame.

Here's the kicker. Carla had become sick that day. Carla's mom had, in fact, just arrived to pick up her sick little girl. She was probably a little worried, wondering how her daughter was doing and what was wrong with her. Then I came running down the hall a little teary eyed, wearing my nissehue, to say quite quickly in stuttered Danish, "The food today was delicious. Just like my Grandma's back in Canada! What kind of cut was it?" ...the poor woman!

Well, at least it made for a good story at work today. We laughed...together... over my little mistake:)