Notes from the Red Bird House

I've decided that I'm going to Sweden next year. I'm sure this statement begs a ba-jillion questions. I mean seriously, Sweden? Yes, Sweden. For real. Why??????? (1) I'm Swedish . Nope. Not like even 1-128th. Near as I can figure (without the assistance of genetic testing), my ancestors are mostly from lands to the south and east of Scandinavia. My mom's family came from Hungary and Romania but called themselves Germanic. My dad's family... I think some were German and others Scotch-English. But Scandinavian? Yeah, not so much. (2) Jag talar svenska . Again, nope. I'm hopelessly American and speak only English. That said, my goal is to learn enough Swedish to get around and not seem hopelessly American. After just ten days of lessons, I can already count to twenty, recite the days of the week, ask how you are, tell where I'm from, and say 'I love you'. It's a process and I'm traditionally not good at languages (just look at the way I

I still get asked occasionally why I went to graduate school. After all, I'm working at the same job for the same company. I didn't get a raise or a promotion or a new job. I guess to most people, the two years I spent getting a Masters in Liberal Arts (affectionately called an MLA) at St. Edward's University were for nothing. "So, what you're saying, Stacee, is that you got a $53k diploma to hang on your wall?" Sure, that's what I'm saying, if that's what you want to believe. Many people think that everything undertaken has to have financial purpose or at least boost one's standing in the world. My degree does neither. I knew it wouldn't. It was far from the point when I started. Interestingly, I went to St. Eds to get back into academia after more than twenty years away. I had my sights set on an advanced degree in divinity (specifically an MDiv from Harvard University) and I was going to need a few academically oriented recommendations