Weekend - September 5 & 6

Panic mode has set in. I have a German test on Monday, and, overachiever that I am, it is exceedingly difficult for me not only not to be at the head of the class but to be so near the bottom. This is NOT the Jamison way. And yet, the last (and only) German class I had was one semester at Columbia in 1975, while the twenty-somethings in the course at the Goethe Institute are either currently studying it elsewhere or have had it recently. And their brains are more plastic. Sheesh. They weren't even born yet in 1975. A sobering thought. I should cut myself some slack. I guess just the fact that I tested into the same level with them says something, although it reminds me of the typing test I took while applying for employment at Columbia. I did miserably, but the HR person could see potential! She KNEW I could become a faster typist and therefore be such an EXCELLENT secretary that she hired me anyway. I've always set the bar so high...

Anyway, test anxiety to the point of tears - I can't learn 300 verb forms and 400 vocab words in four days of classes, flash cards or no flash cards. So I went to the farmers' market on Saturday and the flea market on Sunday (Hannah bought a piece of furniture which she had to haul on a rickety handtruck over 10 blocks of cobblestones and THEN up 6 flights of stairs), and took a couple of walks along the river with Maggie. I did study for 5 hours Saturday evening and a bit on Sunday night but it hardly made a dent. I am NOT well prepared. And I am not working towards a degree or credential of any kind, am only doing this for myself, and am 57 years old. Test anxiety needs to go away.

Hannah is wonderful support. She uses the sponge analogy for my brain - soaking up things whether I'm aware of it or not. Studying is now "exercising my sponge." Hannah also either appreciates or denigrates my bad puns, but at least she gets them: T'was billig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe - my "poor man's Jabberwocky, billig being German for "cheap." There have been others.

Favorite word so far is still Krankenschwester (nurse!) although Streichholzschachtel (matchbox) is a close second.

I spent many hours Sunday combing the Berlin Morgenpost for apartments; sent a few emails imploring answers in English; we'll see what turns up. I don't want to do the equivalent of moving to Burien while Hannah inhabits Capitol Hill but nor do I want to live in her back pocket - not only because our lives are separate and we both need our space ("Guess what, Honey, I'm moving to Berlin! And I'm going to live next door! Love, Mom) but also because her back pocket (Friedrichshain) is so noisy and gritty. Laut und schmutzig.

Have I mentioned that one of the top entertainment/events magazines here is called Zitty?