Another gezellig evening at Lotte's... we went and played squash, like I said, and I actually liked it... for the first ten minutes I couldn't even hit the dang ball, but like Mom says, I always catch on to sports pretty quickly... after the first few minutes it started to get better. So afterwards we decided I'd go to Zeist with her, but she had her car, and it was raining, so we decided to try to stuff my bike in the back. Well, it didn't fit. So we had to leave the back open, but we had no bungee cord to hold it closed. So we fashioned a very interesting contraption out of garbage bags and twist ties and a rubber band.... which tore only a few streets away... so we made another one... long story, but we did make it there. :)
Anyway, so now I'm home again and I've just finished my translation of the satirical look at Sleeping Beauty. See what you guys think.
Grimm’s fairy tales are really rather strange, as I read them with adult eyes. For example, Sleeping Beauty, the slumbering princess. A nice story, but read through it and try to imagine how it must have gone.
Once upon a time there was a queen who very much wanted a daughter, but never had one. One day she went to bathe in the pond. Look, here, it’s already starting. Who bathes in a pond? The idea! Then a frog came up to her. Yeah, that’ll happen if you’re going to sit in a pond; just the frog itself would have been enough for me to start screaming and clawing up the bank. But going on: the frog said: Within a year, thou shalt give birth to a daughter.
What did the queen do then? I’d be interested to know what she said at home, after her little dip. How would the conversation have gone at the dinner table? Something like this?
Say, George!
Yes dear.
You know, I swam in the pond today, and…
You swam in the pond?
Yes, it was so warm out, I just thought, come on, I thought, a little dip in the pond.
But you can’t do that; what will the employees think?
Hey, stop nagging. If I WANT to go in the pond. Anyway, so within a year we’re going to have a daughter, the frog said so.
Who said so?
The frog in the pond.
Did the king lay down his napkin and call the palace psychiatrist? That’s not included in the story at all. Anyway, a daughter was born at the end of the year, but personally I’m sticking by my opinion, that that frog had absolutely nothing to do with it.
They had a big party for the baptism. Twelve fairies were invited, but the thirteenth one wasn’t, because they only had twelve gold plates. See, that’s just plain stupid. If you ask one, you have to ask all the others, otherwise just don’t invite any of them; that’s true of birthday parties as well. She could have just given them all enamel plates.
All twelve fairies came with a spell and a little outfit from the Hanna Anderson catalog. And the angry aunt Fie who wasn’t invited came anyway, without a present and with a Curse. For someone to reveal themselves that way. Are you on the soup course? she asked sweetly. Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll be gone in a minute. I just wanted to say that that child’s going to die on her fifteenth birthday. Because of a spinning wheel. Enjoy your dinner. Bye!
The twelfth fairy, aunt Adeline, said comfortingly to the queen: Come, come, she won’t die, dear. She’ll just sleep for a hundred years.
Arrived at this point of the story, I’ve got to stop and think. Asleep for a hundred years. Is that a curse? It doesn’t seem like a curse to me; I think it’d be great. I’d rather like to do that. Thorns will grow up over my house, so that no one can get through, not even the IRS. I’ll miss the elections, a big plus in itself. In a hundred years a prince will kiss me awake. Well, a prince… it can be less dramatic. A nice well-situated man from the insurance business, for example. Wake up! It’s already 2062! he calls, kissing me. I’ll slowly open my eyes and say: Are the Russians here yet? Get outta here! he says, They’ve been gone for eighty years. It’s commonplace now to take the bus to Moscow for five days for 70 guilders. It’s the Eskimos now. Their aggressive attitude gets worse by the day. Oh, I’d say. So the taxes are back up again, then? Even higher, he says. But we’ve gotten some more houses. A good forty. The Y-tunnel is almost finished. You know what, I say. I think I’ll nap for another hundred years. Good night.
Good thing that children see Grimm’s fairy tales differently.
Anyway, so now I'm home again and I've just finished my translation of the satirical look at Sleeping Beauty. See what you guys think.
Grimm’s fairy tales are really rather strange, as I read them with adult eyes. For example, Sleeping Beauty, the slumbering princess. A nice story, but read through it and try to imagine how it must have gone.
Once upon a time there was a queen who very much wanted a daughter, but never had one. One day she went to bathe in the pond. Look, here, it’s already starting. Who bathes in a pond? The idea! Then a frog came up to her. Yeah, that’ll happen if you’re going to sit in a pond; just the frog itself would have been enough for me to start screaming and clawing up the bank. But going on: the frog said: Within a year, thou shalt give birth to a daughter.
What did the queen do then? I’d be interested to know what she said at home, after her little dip. How would the conversation have gone at the dinner table? Something like this?
Say, George!
Yes dear.
You know, I swam in the pond today, and…
You swam in the pond?
Yes, it was so warm out, I just thought, come on, I thought, a little dip in the pond.
But you can’t do that; what will the employees think?
Hey, stop nagging. If I WANT to go in the pond. Anyway, so within a year we’re going to have a daughter, the frog said so.
Who said so?
The frog in the pond.
Did the king lay down his napkin and call the palace psychiatrist? That’s not included in the story at all. Anyway, a daughter was born at the end of the year, but personally I’m sticking by my opinion, that that frog had absolutely nothing to do with it.
They had a big party for the baptism. Twelve fairies were invited, but the thirteenth one wasn’t, because they only had twelve gold plates. See, that’s just plain stupid. If you ask one, you have to ask all the others, otherwise just don’t invite any of them; that’s true of birthday parties as well. She could have just given them all enamel plates.
All twelve fairies came with a spell and a little outfit from the Hanna Anderson catalog. And the angry aunt Fie who wasn’t invited came anyway, without a present and with a Curse. For someone to reveal themselves that way. Are you on the soup course? she asked sweetly. Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll be gone in a minute. I just wanted to say that that child’s going to die on her fifteenth birthday. Because of a spinning wheel. Enjoy your dinner. Bye!
The twelfth fairy, aunt Adeline, said comfortingly to the queen: Come, come, she won’t die, dear. She’ll just sleep for a hundred years.
Arrived at this point of the story, I’ve got to stop and think. Asleep for a hundred years. Is that a curse? It doesn’t seem like a curse to me; I think it’d be great. I’d rather like to do that. Thorns will grow up over my house, so that no one can get through, not even the IRS. I’ll miss the elections, a big plus in itself. In a hundred years a prince will kiss me awake. Well, a prince… it can be less dramatic. A nice well-situated man from the insurance business, for example. Wake up! It’s already 2062! he calls, kissing me. I’ll slowly open my eyes and say: Are the Russians here yet? Get outta here! he says, They’ve been gone for eighty years. It’s commonplace now to take the bus to Moscow for five days for 70 guilders. It’s the Eskimos now. Their aggressive attitude gets worse by the day. Oh, I’d say. So the taxes are back up again, then? Even higher, he says. But we’ve gotten some more houses. A good forty. The Y-tunnel is almost finished. You know what, I say. I think I’ll nap for another hundred years. Good night.
Good thing that children see Grimm’s fairy tales differently.
stormed at 17:53
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