Se hett mi foot

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Iesmoond 1999)

Al good 14 Doog ploogt mien Mann un mi de Gripp'. Wi köönt beid' gor nich so recht warrer op de Been koom. Mien Heinz hett de Süük ansleept. Snööf, Hosten un de Knoken swoor as Blee. Kuum to gläuben, dat so een groten, stäbig Mannsminsch de Been wegknackt as Swevelsticken. Dochter un Swiegersöhn sünd mit em no Tante Meier gohn. Wüür jüst to 'n Wekenenn, un de beiden harrn Konzertkorten för Berlin. Na, so hebb ik hööpt, villicht kummst jo alleen kloor, ober Söhn Diether un sien Nati sünd jo ok noch dor wenn 't neudig is. Wüür neudig! De beiden Kinner hebbt uns mit Eten versorgt. Mi hett de Greunkohl ok noch gans wunnerbor smeckt.. Ik wüür jo noch verschoont vun den Virus. Wo kannt bloots angohn? Hebbt wi uns doch tru un broov gegen de Influenzaviren sprütten loten. Ober dat gifft soveel Oorten vun Viren, gegen de uns Sprütt nich holpen hett. ,,Bitte steek mi nich an, ik hebb würklich keen Tiet in de Puuk to krüpen'', hebb ik mien Heinz beed. Hett nix nützt, twee Doog loter wüürt denn ober ok bi mi so wiet. Ok mi wulln de Been nich mihr dregen. Kaffe kunn ik ole Kaffetante nich mihr rüken. Nee, dat wüür keen godet Teken. Mien Mann harr sik no een poor Doog so 'n lütt beten warrer oprappelt un pier mi: ,,Du mußt nun aber etwas essen und trinken''. ,,Loot mi liggen, ik mach nix hüürn, nix rüken un nix sehn. Gooh mi af mit wat to Eten. Ik hebb noog totosetten'', wüür mien Anter.

Good, dat de Kinner op uns oppaßt. Se hebbt uns Fro Dr. Müller anropen, de ok fuurts keum. Tjer, mien Heinz harr een Lungenentzündung achter sik un ik harr een swore Bronchitis mit een ganse Blooskopell in de Boß. Mit Antibiotika un Hostentobletten verseukt wi nu gegenan to gohn, un hööpt bald warrer unsen wohnten Alldag uttofülln.

Een Troost harr ik ober. Mien Koter Peter is mi nich vun de Siet gohn. He hett kuum freten un hett sik ümmer mi to Feuten or ok mol in mien Arm hinleggt. Dat mütt doch so 'n Kattenjule as mi helpen?

So, jüst hebb ik een scheunet Stück Ossenboß mit Suppengreun to Füür bröcht un warr uns een deftige Supp koken, de uns warrer Knööf in de lohmen Knoken bringen schall.

Mien Computer warr ik nu mit een Muusklick utmoken. De kinnt gor nich so veel Rooh un warrt sik liekso frogen as mien E-mail Frünnen ,,Wat is loos mit Tant Clara?'' Warr morgen een Rundbreef op de Reis üm den Globus bringen, dormit alltohoop weet, dat ik noch dor, ober bannig süük bün.

It Got Me

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(February 1999)

I've been suffering from the flu for more than two weeks now. Neither of us seems to be really getting over it. My Heinz was the one who brought the illness home -- sniffles, cough, and bones heavy as lead. It's hard to believe that the legs of such a big, strong man can just fold over like matches. Our daughter and son-in-law had to help him visit the bathroom. That happened to be on a weekend, and the two had concert tickets for Berlin. Well, so I kept hoping, "Maybe I'll be able to manage by myself, but there are also son Diether and his Nati if necessary." It was necessary! The two children supplied us with food. I still enjoyed the kale. After all, the virus hadn't gotten to me yet. How can it be possible? And we had gotten flu vaccinations as we were supposed to. But there are so many types of viruses from which the injections don't protect you. "Please don't pass it on to me! I really don't have time for being bedridden," I had begged my Heinz. It was useless. Two days later it was my turn. My legs wouldn't carry me either. I, the old coffee lover, couldn't even stand the smell of coffee. That surely was not a good sign. A few days later my husband had gotten over the worst and was nagging me [in German], "But you've got to eat and drink something now." "Let me just lie here! I don't want to hear, smell or see anything. Don't bug me about food! I can do with some weight loss," I answered.

Good to know that the children take care of us. They called our Dr. Müller, and she came right away. Well, my Heinz had just gotten over pneumonia, and I had severe bronchitis with a whole brass band in my chest. Now we are trying to fight it with antibiotics and cough medication and hope to be able to get back into our usual routine soon.

But I do have one consolation. My tomcat Peter never left my side. He hardly ate anything and kept lying at my feet or once in a while in my arms. That should help an old cat-loving lady like me.

All right, just now I put a nice piece of breast of beef with soup vegetables onto the stove and will make us some hearty soup that will return some strength to our weak bones.

Now I'll turn off my computer with a mouse click. It isn't used to so much idleness and, like my email friends, must be wondering, "What's the matter with Aunt Clara?" Tomorrow I'll send out around the globe a mass email message so everyone knows that I still exist, albeit rather ill.

Sei het mii faat

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Iismaand 1999)

Al goud 14 [feirtain] daag' plaagt miin man un mii de grip. Wii keunt baid gaar nich soo recht warrer op de beinen kamen. Miin Heinz het de suyk an-sleepd -- Snoyv, housten, un de knaken swaar as bleie. Kuum tou gloyven dat soo 'n groten, stevig mans-minsch de beinen weg-knakt as swevel-stikken. Dochter un swigerseun suend mit em naa Tante Meier gaan. Woyr juest tou 'n wekenend, un de baiden harren konssertkaarten foer Berlin. Na, soo hev ik heupd: ,,Fillicht kumst jaa allein klaar, aver seun Diether un siin Nati suend jaa ouk noch daar wen 't noydig is.'' Woyr noydig! De baiden kinder hevt uns mit eten fersorgd. Mii het de groynkool ouk noch ganss wunnerbaar smekd.. Ik woyr jaa noch ferschoondt fun d'n wirus. Wou kan 't bloots an-gaan? Hevt wii uns doch truu un braav gegen de influenssawiren spruetten laten. Aver dat givt so feel aarden fun wiren gegen dei uns spruet nich holpen het. ,,Bitte steek mii nich an! Ik hev wuerklich kein tiid in de puuk tou kruypen,'' hev ik miin Heinz beed. Het niks nuetst. Twei daag' later woyr 't den aver ouk bii mii soo wiid. Ouk mii wullen de beinen nich meir dregen. Kaffe kun ik olde kaffetante nich meir ruyken. Nee, dat woyr kein goudet teiken. Miin man har sik naa 'n paar daag' soo 'n luet beten warrer op-rappeld un piir mii: ,,Du mußt nun aber etwas essen und trinken.'' ,,Laat mii liggen! Ik mach niks hoyren, niks ruyken un niks seien. Gaa mii af mit wat tou eten! Ik hev noug tou tou setten'', woyr miin anter.

Goud dat de kinder op uns op-paßt. Se hevt uns Frou Dr. Müller an-roupen, dei ouk fourts koym. Tjer, miin Heinz har 'n lungenenttsuendung achter sik, un ik har 'n sware bronchitis mit 'n gansse blaaskapell in de bos. Mit antibiotika un houstentaabletten fersoykt wii nuu gegen an tou gaan un heupt bald warrer unsen woonden aldag uut tou fuellen.

Ein troost har ik aver. Miin kater Peter is mii nich fun de siit gaan. Hei het kuum freten un het sik uemmer mii tou foyten or ouk maal in miin arm hin-legd. Dat muett doch soo 'n kattenjule as mii helpen.

Soo, juest hev ik 'n schoynet stuek ossenboss mit suppengroyn tou fuyr broechd un war uns 'n deftige sup kaken dei uns warrer kneuf in de lamen knaken bringen schal.

Miin kompjuter war ik nuu mit ein muusklik uut maken. De kint gaar nich soo feel rou un wardt sik liik soo fragen as miin email-fruenden: ,,Wat is loos mit Tant Clara?'' War morgen 'n rundbreiv op de rais' uem d'n globus bringen, daar mit al tou houp weett dat ik noch daar aver bannig suyk buen.

It Got Me

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(February 1999)

I've been suffering from the flu for more than two weeks now. Neither of us seems to be really getting over it. My Heinz was the one who brought the illness home -- sniffles, cough, and bones heavy as lead. It's hard to believe that the legs of such a big, strong man can just fold over like matches. Our daughter and son-in-law had to help him visit the bathroom. That happened to be on a weekend, and the two had concert tickets for Berlin. Well, so I kept hoping, "Maybe I'll be able to manage by myself, but there are also son Diether and his Nati if necessary." It was necessary! The two children supplied us with food. I still enjoyed the kale. After all, the virus hadn't gotten to me yet. How can it be possible? And we had gotten flu vaccinations as we were supposed to. But there are so many types of viruses from which the injections don't protect you. "Please don't pass it on to me! I really don't have time for being bedridden," I had begged my Heinz. It was useless. Two days later it was my turn. My legs wouldn't carry me either. I, the old coffee lover, couldn't even stand the smell of coffee. That surely was not a good sign. A few days later my husband had gotten over the worst and was nagging me [in German], "But you've got to eat and drink something now." "Let me just lie here! I don't want to hear, smell or see anything. Don't bug me about food! I can do with some weight loss," I answered.

Good to know that the children take care of us. They called our Dr. Müller, and she came right away. Well, my Heinz had just gotten over pneumonia, and I had severe bronchitis with a whole brass band in my chest. Now we are trying to fight it with antibiotics and cough medication and hope to be able to get back into our usual routine soon.

But I do have one consolation. My tomcat Peter never left my side. He hardly ate anything and kept lying at my feet or once in a while in my arms. That should help an old cat-loving lady like me.

All right, just now I put a nice piece of breast of beef with soup vegetables onto the stove and will make us some hearty soup that will return some strength to our weak bones.

Now I'll turn off my computer with a mouse click. It isn't used to so much idleness and, like my email friends, must be wondering, "What's the matter with Aunt Clara?" Tomorrow I'll send out around the globe a mass email message so everyone knows that I still exist, albeit rather ill.

Se hett mi foot

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Iesmoond 1999)

Al good 14 Doog ploogt mien Mann un mi de Gripp'. Wi köönt beid' gor nich so recht warrer op de Been koom. Mien Heinz hett de Süük ansleept. Snööf, Hosten un de Knoken swoor as Blee. Kuum to gläuben, dat so een groten, stäbig Mannsminsch de Been wegknackt as Swevelsticken. Dochter un Swiegersöhn sünd mit em no Tante Meier gohn. Wüür jüst to 'n Wekenenn, un de beiden harrn Konzertkorten för Berlin. Na, so hebb ik hööpt, villicht kummst jo alleen kloor, ober Söhn Diether un sien Nati sünd jo ok noch dor wenn 't neudig is. Wüür neudig! De beiden Kinner hebbt uns mit Eten versorgt. Mi hett de Greunkohl ok noch gans wunnerbor smeckt.. Ik wüür jo noch verschoont vun den Virus. Wo kannt bloots angohn? Hebbt wi uns doch tru un broov gegen de Influenzaviren sprütten loten. Ober dat gifft soveel Oorten vun Viren, gegen de uns Sprütt nich holpen hett. ,,Bitte steek mi nich an, ik hebb würklich keen Tiet in de Puuk to krüpen'', hebb ik mien Heinz beed. Hett nix nützt, twee Doog loter wüürt denn ober ok bi mi so wiet. Ok mi wulln de Been nich mihr dregen. Kaffe kunn ik ole Kaffetante nich mihr rüken. Nee, dat wüür keen godet Teken. Mien Mann harr sik no een poor Doog so 'n lütt beten warrer oprappelt un pier mi: ,,Du mußt nun aber etwas essen und trinken''. ,,Loot mi liggen, ik mach nix hüürn, nix rüken un nix sehn. Gooh mi af mit wat to Eten. Ik hebb noog totosetten'', wüür mien Anter.

Good, dat de Kinner op uns oppaßt. Se hebbt uns Fro Dr. Müller anropen, de ok fuurts keum. Tjer, mien Heinz harr een Lungenentzündung achter sik un ik harr een swore Bronchitis mit een ganse Blooskopell in de Boß. Mit Antibiotika un Hostentobletten verseukt wi nu gegenan to gohn, un hööpt bald warrer unsen wohnten Alldag uttofülln.

Een Troost harr ik ober. Mien Koter Peter is mi nich vun de Siet gohn. He hett kuum freten un hett sik ümmer mi to Feuten or ok mol in mien Arm hinleggt. Dat mütt doch so 'n Kattenjule as mi helpen?

So, jüst hebb ik een scheunet Stück Ossenboß mit Suppengreun to Füür bröcht un warr uns een deftige Supp koken, de uns warrer Knööf in de lohmen Knoken bringen schall.

Mien Computer warr ik nu mit een Muusklick utmoken. De kinnt gor nich so veel Rooh un warrt sik liekso frogen as mien E-mail Frünnen ,,Wat is loos mit Tant Clara?'' Warr morgen een Rundbreef op de Reis üm den Globus bringen, dormit alltohoop weet, dat ik noch dor, ober bannig süük bün.

It Got Me

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(February 1999)

I've been suffering from the flu for more than two weeks now. Neither of us seems to be really getting over it. My Heinz was the one who brought the illness home -- sniffles, cough, and bones heavy as lead. It's hard to believe that the legs of such a big, strong man can just fold over like matches. Our daughter and son-in-law had to help him visit the bathroom. That happened to be on a weekend, and the two had concert tickets for Berlin. Well, so I kept hoping, "Maybe I'll be able to manage by myself, but there are also son Diether and his Nati if necessary." It was necessary! The two children supplied us with food. I still enjoyed the kale. After all, the virus hadn't gotten to me yet. How can it be possible? And we had gotten flu vaccinations as we were supposed to. But there are so many types of viruses from which the injections don't protect you. "Please don't pass it on to me! I really don't have time for being bedridden," I had begged my Heinz. It was useless. Two days later it was my turn. My legs wouldn't carry me either. I, the old coffee lover, couldn't even stand the smell of coffee. That surely was not a good sign. A few days later my husband had gotten over the worst and was nagging me [in German], "But you've got to eat and drink something now." "Let me just lie here! I don't want to hear, smell or see anything. Don't bug me about food! I can do with some weight loss," I answered.

Good to know that the children take care of us. They called our Dr. Müller, and she came right away. Well, my Heinz had just gotten over pneumonia, and I had severe bronchitis with a whole brass band in my chest. Now we are trying to fight it with antibiotics and cough medication and hope to be able to get back into our usual routine soon.

But I do have one consolation. My tomcat Peter never left my side. He hardly ate anything and kept lying at my feet or once in a while in my arms. That should help an old cat-loving lady like me.

All right, just now I put a nice piece of breast of beef with soup vegetables onto the stove and will make us some hearty soup that will return some strength to our weak bones.

Now I'll turn off my computer with a mouse click. It isn't used to so much idleness and, like my email friends, must be wondering, "What's the matter with Aunt Clara?" Tomorrow I'll send out around the globe a mass email message so everyone knows that I still exist, albeit rather ill.

Sei het mii faat

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Iismaand 1999)

Al goud 14 [feirtain] daag' plaagt miin man un mii de grip. Wii keunt baid gaar nich soo recht warrer op de beinen kamen. Miin Heinz het de suyk an-sleepd -- Snoyv, housten, un de knaken swaar as bleie. Kuum tou gloyven dat soo 'n groten, stevig mans-minsch de beinen weg-knakt as swevel-stikken. Dochter un swigerseun suend mit em naa Tante Meier gaan. Woyr juest tou 'n wekenend, un de baiden harren konssertkaarten foer Berlin. Na, soo hev ik heupd: ,,Fillicht kumst jaa allein klaar, aver seun Diether un siin Nati suend jaa ouk noch daar wen 't noydig is.'' Woyr noydig! De baiden kinder hevt uns mit eten fersorgd. Mii het de groynkool ouk noch ganss wunnerbaar smekd.. Ik woyr jaa noch ferschoondt fun d'n wirus. Wou kan 't bloots an-gaan? Hevt wii uns doch truu un braav gegen de influenssawiren spruetten laten. Aver dat givt so feel aarden fun wiren gegen dei uns spruet nich holpen het. ,,Bitte steek mii nich an! Ik hev wuerklich kein tiid in de puuk tou kruypen,'' hev ik miin Heinz beed. Het niks nuetst. Twei daag' later woyr 't den aver ouk bii mii soo wiid. Ouk mii wullen de beinen nich meir dregen. Kaffe kun ik olde kaffetante nich meir ruyken. Nee, dat woyr kein goudet teiken. Miin man har sik naa 'n paar daag' soo 'n luet beten warrer op-rappeld un piir mii: ,,Du mußt nun aber etwas essen und trinken.'' ,,Laat mii liggen! Ik mach niks hoyren, niks ruyken un niks seien. Gaa mii af mit wat tou eten! Ik hev noug tou tou setten'', woyr miin anter.

Goud dat de kinder op uns op-paßt. Se hevt uns Frou Dr. Müller an-roupen, dei ouk fourts koym. Tjer, miin Heinz har 'n lungenenttsuendung achter sik, un ik har 'n sware bronchitis mit 'n gansse blaaskapell in de bos. Mit antibiotika un houstentaabletten fersoykt wii nuu gegen an tou gaan un heupt bald warrer unsen woonden aldag uut tou fuellen.

Ein troost har ik aver. Miin kater Peter is mii nich fun de siit gaan. Hei het kuum freten un het sik uemmer mii tou foyten or ouk maal in miin arm hin-legd. Dat muett doch soo 'n kattenjule as mii helpen.

Soo, juest hev ik 'n schoynet stuek ossenboss mit suppengroyn tou fuyr broechd un war uns 'n deftige sup kaken dei uns warrer kneuf in de lamen knaken bringen schal.

Miin kompjuter war ik nuu mit ein muusklik uut maken. De kint gaar nich soo feel rou un wardt sik liik soo fragen as miin email-fruenden: ,,Wat is loos mit Tant Clara?'' War morgen 'n rundbreiv op de rais' uem d'n globus bringen, daar mit al tou houp weett dat ik noch daar aver bannig suyk buen.

It Got Me

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(February 1999)

I've been suffering from the flu for more than two weeks now. Neither of us seems to be really getting over it. My Heinz was the one who brought the illness home -- sniffles, cough, and bones heavy as lead. It's hard to believe that the legs of such a big, strong man can just fold over like matches. Our daughter and son-in-law had to help him visit the bathroom. That happened to be on a weekend, and the two had concert tickets for Berlin. Well, so I kept hoping, "Maybe I'll be able to manage by myself, but there are also son Diether and his Nati if necessary." It was necessary! The two children supplied us with food. I still enjoyed the kale. After all, the virus hadn't gotten to me yet. How can it be possible? And we had gotten flu vaccinations as we were supposed to. But there are so many types of viruses from which the injections don't protect you. "Please don't pass it on to me! I really don't have time for being bedridden," I had begged my Heinz. It was useless. Two days later it was my turn. My legs wouldn't carry me either. I, the old coffee lover, couldn't even stand the smell of coffee. That surely was not a good sign. A few days later my husband had gotten over the worst and was nagging me [in German], "But you've got to eat and drink something now." "Let me just lie here! I don't want to hear, smell or see anything. Don't bug me about food! I can do with some weight loss," I answered.

Good to know that the children take care of us. They called our Dr. Müller, and she came right away. Well, my Heinz had just gotten over pneumonia, and I had severe bronchitis with a whole brass band in my chest. Now we are trying to fight it with antibiotics and cough medication and hope to be able to get back into our usual routine soon.

But I do have one consolation. My tomcat Peter never left my side. He hardly ate anything and kept lying at my feet or once in a while in my arms. That should help an old cat-loving lady like me.

All right, just now I put a nice piece of breast of beef with soup vegetables onto the stove and will make us some hearty soup that will return some strength to our weak bones.

Now I'll turn off my computer with a mouse click. It isn't used to so much idleness and, like my email friends, must be wondering, "What's the matter with Aunt Clara?" Tomorrow I'll send out around the globe a mass email message so everyone knows that I still exist, albeit rather ill.