I don't know if I should laugh or cry about this, but earlier today in Oslo, a slightly intoxicated 70 year old woman was escorted out from a shopping mall by the police for speeding with her wheelchair! She was also driving into people, and the management was concerned about the public's safety as well as the old woman's. They said she was welcome back after she'd done some basic training maneuvering her vehicle...
The tradition of the Advent calendar is at least as 200 years old, and it was a sure thing when I grew up. I usually had three; one following the TV-show that was sent at the same time, one homemade and filled with goodies and small surprises, and one sent from my "uncle" and "auntie" in Germany. (The Advent calendar itself actually has its origin in Germany, and they do know how to make real nice ones. Glitter on the outside and filled with milk chocolate for the kids, and for "grownups" there are the ones with quality chocolate; marzipan and liqueur...)
Anyway, it was a very natural tradition to pass on to my own kids, and every year they got their homemade one from me, the TV-thing from their grandma in Sweden and one or two chocolate ones from others here in Norway. As they got older the only one remaining was the one from me, but for the last couple of years I've been signaling that I won't do it anymore. Trying to find 3 X 24 different, not too expensive gifts, wrap them up and then attach them to the cross stitched calendar is simply a lot of work to do in the middle of exams and everything. And they have assured me for as many years that that's all right. They understand. And they sure should, being 14, 19 and 21...
But so far I've been sitting every last day of November finishing the calendar for them, so I'm afraid that they'll now actually get disappointed if I don't make it? I probably should have stopped when I first said I would. And who's getting me a calendar? Still a kid at heart... I won't be surprised if I'll spend the early hours of the 1st of December doing what I've been doing for 20 years now. But as I said, I'm still a kid at heart, and it pleases me to see them so happy for it.
The Christmas fair at my daughter's school is over for this year, and I think it went well all over, although I didn't have much time to see it for myself. I had duty in the "Silent Café" right up until the finale show, when my youngest daughter was supposed to sing. So she did, and I was tremendously proud of her and wanted to scream out loud "That's my daughter!!!" She got rounds of applauds from the crowd, and I could hear the positive comments from people standing next to me. The song was from one of her favorite musicals Chicago, more precisely "When You're Good To Mama". (By the way, her absolute favorite musical is "Les Misérables".) This is a YouTube version:
This happened a couple of weeks ago; I caught a glimpse of something beautiful and got an image in my head which I'll treasure for a long time, if not forever.
A crisp and chilly morning I was on my way home to a friend of mine, to do some ceramics. (Or rather, she's doing the ceramics, I'm just playing with the clay. Which is very pleasant and relaxing in itself, even if I don't get any "result" out of it.) Anyway, I drove past this old couple standing on the frosty sidewalk, I guess they both were well into their eighties. Most likely they were on their way to the grocer's, judging by the wheeled shopping bag standing next to them. The old lady was holding on to the railing while her husband was kneeling down in front of her, tying her shoelaces. Can you see it? That image said so much about life, or how it should be.
And for the rest of us there's always Velcro.
So. I'm on vacation. Spending a few days at mum's, trying not to think too much about the businesses which I eventually have to give proper attention to. Doing very little but relax and enjoy myself; this is done by seeing my family, eating & drinking, going to the movies and some shopping. (I found some real nice shoes yesterday, and it's good to see I haven't forgotten completely how to waste money on my appearence...)
I arrived in Sweden late Wednesday night, after a long days travel. From Bergen to Oslo I had company, as my dear friend Kari was going east to see her "boyfriend" there. Never has a trainride passed quicker, and although I rather enjoy riding the train in solitude, sharing that trip with a friend was very invigorating. Then I had a few hours to kill at the station, and I allowed myself a meal at the Chinese restaurant. A very simple place, but the food is nice, and the people too.
First day in Sweden I did almost nothing, just sitting down having breakfast with someone was a treat. A lazy, wonderful day it was, just what I needed! In the afternoon I went to see my father, and spent the night there. One of my brothers came over too and I beat them in our favorite card game "Chicago", a game played in three phases, where points are given according to poker ranking and then extra 5 points at the end of the game playing tricks. We played several rounds, and the reason I won all toghether was because I got that straight flush I "ordered". I've got a powerful mind, so be aware... he, he.
Yesterday was all spent in the City of Gothenburg. Lunch with my brothers, followed by some shopping, and then we reunited for coffe, movie and a couple of beers at "Bishop's Arms".
But let's go back to the previous night at my dad's. When the clock struck midnight I thought it would be wise to hit the pillow, but my curiousity got the better of me and I started to rumble through some cases in the living room. You see, only a couple of weeks ago my father had emptied the cellar due to some long awaited renovation, and a lot of that stuff was now sitting right in front of me, tempting me with all its secret content. Obviously I couldn't go to bed, you see that, right? There was on ald box marked with my grandma's name, rather superfluously to me, since it was securely tied together with some old nylon stockings. Her trademark, so to speak.
Inside that box were letters, telegrams and postcards, and real old ones too. I had absolutely no intention of reading them all, not that night and perhaps never, but I browsed a little and picked a few that got my attention. One letter posted to "Mama Bengtsson" from 1939 looked interesting, and knowing my father was 11 at that time I figured it must have been from him and not his 15 year old sister. I was right; there was my father writing home to his parents from where he was for summer vacation at his aunt's. He had just been out fishing with his cousins, and reported sizes and weights of their catches. The letter ended with a plea (his parents were about to join their children later in the summer): "Don't forget my Indian costume!"
Just as I read that, my father, now 79, joined me in the living room. "Listen here!" I said and read it all aloud. In an instant he was back in those days, and told me about that costume which he'd made at school, and for which he'd got the highest mark. I could easily picture him running around the woods playing Indians & Cowboys with Herbert and Ingmar... My father hugged me, he was quite moved. Actually all this was news to him, he'd just got the box when they emptied my grandma's place, and the box had never been opened before. So evidently he'd never seen that telgram sent to him from his aunt, except when he first got it on his third birthday in 1931. Nor had he seen the flowers his mother had picked on Midsummer Day in 1916, 1917 and 1918 and carefully wrapped in paper and stowed away. The rhymed inscriptions on the cards she recieved on her Christmas gift's as a teenager were also total mysteries to him. (And by the way, if you think they were all prim and prudish back then, well - think again. I found some real cute ones, which I might try to translate another time.)
There was correspondence from the time my grandfather sailed with the armoured cruiser "HMS Fylgia"; he'd drawn maps of the South America's and the ports they visited. I think, if I'd have nothing else to do in my entire life, I could fill the time with reading all that stuff. Filling in the gaps with my own imagination, and my father's stories. Hmm, sounds like a project doesn't it?
Imaginary or not, something is in the air, that's for sure. It's course weekend again, and obviously I'm more alert and tuned in. But still the skeptic, still not sure whether to follow through with the next two years to become a licensed therapist. On the other hand, that might not be a bad thing. What I really dread here in life are fanatics, regardless of affiliation. Someone who claims they know the truth (and won't accept other's), either he believes in Allah, angels or aliens, really scares me. And I don't think you can do any job well if that's your approach. Maybe a certain distance is good for me.
This course is much like a journey, but with no itinerary, only a goal. So of course it's frightening, not knowing what the next stop is. But I have also learned (and that's absolutely in line with the philosophy here) that as soon as I stop "fighting" and let go, what should come to me does. For example those difficult decisions regarding my studies suddenly became clearer, and that whole phone thing turned out to be (and now I can hear my friends at the course: "We told you so!") maybe just right. What you radiate will reflect, and I feel that's true. And spreading a little love couldn't harm anyone, now well, could it?
Ooops, have to run. See you later!
Apparently my daughter answered those questions to the interviewer's satisfaction - she got the job, and I'm so proud of her! Now she can look forward to pick up her studies after Christmas, knowing she can support herself. Clever girl...
Almost bizarre, but losing the phone might not be all that bad. Having realized that the world still is spinning, it's quite relaxing not to be "available" all the time; and considering that one of the tasks now was to look after myself, I must say it's handy to have an excuse for not being "at service". I really have a hard time saying no to my kids if they call and ask to be picked up, even if there are buses... (You know I exaggerate a little, right? I see it may sound as I was literally attached to the phone...)
Aren't you laughing now, 'cause who am I kidding? It's been two days only, and I (nor you) won't be surprised if I've gotten myself a new phone by tomorrow. I guess for most people nowadays, phones are something we take more or less for granted, and not only the younger generations. At least here in Norway, everyone seem to be "connected" wherever they go. When there's music coming out of the purse of the elderly lady with the walking stick sitting next to you on the bus, no eyebrows are raised.
Remember when I got my first phone 10 years ago, when we lived in Australia. It was bought out of necessity; being in a new country with no family or friends around, we figured the kids' school should be able to contact me at all times. But I must admit I thought it was very "cool", so hip putting the phone on the table while I had lunch with Julia at some fancy place. Imagine that monster, as big as domestic phone, with the antenna sticking out at least 3 cm's. Real smart.
But one aspect of not having a phone late at night while a little intoxicated, is that you can't use it for dialing that number you shouldn't be dialing. So by being deprived of my means of communicating, it also prevented me from being just slightly silly at its best, and downright stupid and embarrassing at its worst. So my next phone maybe should be the one from LG which incorporates a breathalyser and "allows users to program the phone to prevent the dialing of specific numbers on certain nights and after a certain time."?
What an extremely odd day this has been, with so many extraordinary things happening. But I'll jump to the very end of it.
I was out with a group of friends, drinking wine and beer and having a good time. We were chatting along as best as we could (the music is always too loud), but at one point it suddenly seemed that everybody got messages coming in on their phones, which everyone then "had" to reply to, and obviously we made a topic out of that. The need for phones, anti social behavior, and all that. I must admit I'm quite "attached" to my phone, and I always (more or less) carry it with me. It's not so much the phone in itself, but the content and the possibilities it holds.
I was just saying to Chris that I considered buying a new phone, but I sure needed a better excuse than that I didn't like the keys, and then I went off to the ladies room. When I came back I thought I'd check the phone for incoming messages (again) but found it was missing! I realized I'd been stupid enough to place it on the toilet paper holder while I washed my hands, and then distracted by the impatient woman on the outside jerking the door knob. As soon I understood what had happened I rushed to the "ladies" room, only to find the phone gone. I asked for it at the bar, no luck, and then I called my own number, only to find it turned off. (Hence "ladies", 'cause neither a real lady, nor a gentleman, steals from others.) Next was to call my provider to block the SIM-card, and after that - well, Good Night, Irene!
Sure, no one can use my phone and call Africa on my account, but that's not my problem. What about all my contacts? Phone numbers, and all those messages and pictures? I feel so extremely empty, and how pathetic it may sound, that content was "proof" of a reality I don't have. Now that it's gone, I feel lost.
The others tried to assure me that it was better if my phone, a dead thing, was lost, than if I had gone missing. I guess that's true. And also, if the only connection I have to certain people is an idle phone number or a faint image, then it's probably not worth that much anyway, is it? Maybe this was a wakeup call? When I get my new phone I'll soon see which people who'll still be in contact with me, 'cause the number will be the same. And the people who then are "lost", maybe they should be? I'm just afraid I'm not ready for it.
Or I could be in for a surprise...
...was the question my 21-year old daughter got yesterday, while attending a job interview. Afterwards she felt she'd come up with all the wrong answers, and wasn't sure what they'd thought of her. But how do you answer a question like that, or any of those interview questions? Maybe it hasn't so much to do with what you answer as how?
But for me the question was relevant in itself, as I've been under tremendous stress lately. As mentioned I had to let go of the exams for this semester, and now that factor is gone at least. The good thing though is that I'm not feeling as a failure because of it, thanks to all my friends and other qualified people reassuring me. It is absolutely true, it doesn't change who I am, or my course, I just had to readjust my bearings a little.
The funny thing though, is that once I knew I didn't have a deadline to meet, my thinking started to work again. And now I have all these wonderful ideas in my head again. So what does this say about my ability to handle stress? Hopefully not all that much; I'm rather confident that the pressure a student feels is somewhat different from that working in the "real world". Of course that depends on type of job, for instance I know I would make a lousy chef. The cooking wouldn't be any problem, but doing it ultra fast while remembering how many extra potatoes the guest at table 3 wanted, and did he or did he not want that lemon wedge with his fish?
Of course you'll grow into your job; nervous and insecure at first, getting steadier and more reliable as you gain experience. That might be the problem with studying, it's easy to feel that you're always at something new, and hard to see what you've actually learned. And you always have to prove yourself at the end of the semester, in a very unnatural situation. Imagine an engineer being locked up in a room with a pen and paper with the assignment: "You'll better have the drawings for that bridge finished in the next couple of hours! And good luck, by the way!" Even my Java-exam was made on paper...
For once I can't seem to be able to wrap this up nicely, so I'll just finish this post rather abruptly. Have to go to bed, 'cause that's one of the things I really need to attend to. My sleeping habits. Or lack of them.
Good night, my friends, and see you soon.
