Just My Luck

For years and years and years and YEARS, my husband has said that he wants to take me to Denmark.  He served a mission for our church there.  He loved the country.  Loved the people. (Loved the pastries . . .)  Now he loves me.

Finally, he decided that we could afford to go.  The Euro is declining so it won’t be such an expensive trip for us.  Rumor on the street has it that Denmark is the most expensive place in Europe.  Just my luck.

Our airplane tickets are purchased.  We’ve been planning and preparing more for this trip than any other trip that we have taken.

Saying that we are excited to go is the understatement of the year.  Make that century.  We’re in a relatively new one — and his promise started last century.  (That sure sounds like a long time ago, huh?  Well, it WAS!)

The other night on the news, there was an interesting report about the work of the Danish artist Carl Bloch coming to the United States.  Churches and museums are busily packing up their pictures and sending them off for an art show in the United States.

Just my luck.

To say that I was not a happy camper is the understatement of the century.  (Wait.  There is another comment that holds that rating.  I guess this is the second most understatement of the century.)

After all of these years, we finally make arrangements to go to Denmark.  And, once we get there, we’ll see empty wall spaces in those museums and churches that for the past one hundred years have displayed Carl Bloch’s paintings.  Over 100 years they’ve been there.  Waiting patiently for me to come see them.  And now this.

I’m so mad I could eat worms.  (Not really.  Well, maybe.  If they are gummy worms . . .)

To top it off, guess where those paintings are going on display?  At Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah.  THAT IS WHERE I WORK!!!

Folks, do you see the irony in this situation?  We’re going to Denmark.  The pictures are coming here.  We’re like ships passing in the night.

I just might not go see the display once it opens here on campus.  That’ll show them, huh?  (Whomever them might happen to be . . .)