On The Move

Where to start? This has been hell of a week, but I'm not sure whether I should nag about it. "Short" version: I handed in my exam Thursday a fortnight ago, but that wasn't the end of my "ordeals". But I've already told you I had to move and course weekend on top of that, so I won't repeat that. What I didn't know then though, was just how exhausting this process would turn out to be. I didn't know that when the day finally came to do the actual move it would be just me and my mum doing all the carrying. She's 70 and I'm not in the best shape. I guess the last is nothing but my own fault, but this is the reality anyway. So in two days we transported my belongings from old place to new. All except 13 black garbage bags filled with rubbish, which where taken elsewhere. We carried my king size bed (2 mattresses), the book section, the TV, the stereo, the sofa, the spare bed, the small tables, the therapy table and a LOT more, down the stairs, into the van, and then carried it all upstairs in the new flat. Now I haven't mentioned all the boxes and bags with the rest, but you can picture it, right?

Moving OUT took both Monday and Tuesday, from early morning to after midnight, and there wasn't much time to unpack. (That's what I'll have to do now, hopefully in time for Christmas) We still had some things left on Wednesday, the day I was supposed to hand in the keys of a well cleaned flat. But pretty much as with my exam, I made it in time. And the feeling when I walked backwards out of the flat with the swab in my hand, was equally as good. Goodbye old, hello new.

Next time I move it has to be some men involved, at least for helping me carry all my stuff. They're not called the stronger sex for nothing...

These paragraphs I actually wrote a couple of nights ago, but I thought it was a bit boring, so after posting it I almost immediately "took it back" for editing. Now I really can't find anything better to write about, so I'll post it anyhow just as it is! Well, I do have more interesting stuff to share with you, but I'm not sure if the moment is right yet. Have feeling though it won't be long...

Main focus now is on getting the place somewhat in shape so me and my kids can celebrate Christmas here, and I'm slowly getting there. There's a few challenges here now since the layout isn't exactly the same, and every time I come up with some genius solution I feel like I won the lottery. Just simple things, that probably no one else would notice. (That's why I tell you about them...) Like when I finally found some use for that roll of tarred twine I bought a couple of years ago. Then I only wanted it for the smell, and I kept it on the top of a cupboard. Now I've wound it around the end frames of that open shelf I placed in the kitchen, where the microwave and cook-books are.

With a little bit of luck and hard work I think there will be room for a Christmas tree as well...

Finito!

I did it. Again. The printer is working like crazy behind me as we speak; three copies of my paper will soon be materialized and ready to be handed in. Half-ass work as always, but that I'd actually write 23 pages in three days was beyond my wildest fantasies. I can live with the poor standard of it. The main thing is that I'm finally done, 'cause this time it's not only a paper, but the last paper. But as my daughter said this morning when I woke her up:

Good on 'ya mum, now go on with that Master, will you!

I so feel like putting my head on the pillow for just a few minutes, but wouldn't that be the most pathetic thing? Fall deeply into sleep and miss the deadline?

No, I better get dressed and get downtown, and later I'll celebrate with Toril. She even convinced me of going back to Moliére, despite my promise to boycott them. But you know me, always forgiving...

Nearly There!

Me waiting for the shop to open at 6.56 - I'm out of printer paper...

Minor Mode

See you in the blogosphere, she said. Toril somehow seemed to expect that I'd have time to blog in the midst of writing my exam. Silly girl! Of course I don't have time for that, as it is now I'd need to write continuously for the remaining week in order to have even a remote chance of finishing this. So why do I blog now, having said that?

Simple - I just need to get my fingers started! I'm starting to panic, and it ain't funny. The problem though is that everyone else seem to have an unlimited faith in my abilities, and whenever I express my worries the answer is: "Nah, you'll fix it. You always do." Well, the point here isn't to prove anyone wrong, that would be downright stupid, but I just need to whine a little. Get it off my chest, so to speak. So anyone who won't care for listening to my jeremiad, I recommend you to skip the next paragraph. Once I've sung out I'll be in a better mood. Here it goes; in B minor:

I'm sitting here in the dark. Alone. Everyone else is having a good time, preparing for advent with their loved ones. The reality of the consequences of the choices I've made this fall is hitting me hard. And I want to cry. Is this all I ever be? The one who falls on the finishing line? While the rest pass me by, including life itself. Now I do cry, stupid idea to strike a chord at this moment. Emotional miserable wretch, I am. But this is just a job that's need to get done, right? And one way of motivate yourself for doing tedious tasks is to set up a reward for yourself. "When you're done, you can do that thing you've been wanting to do for so long." Yes, motivation is a keyword (which actually might be useful in my paper as well), but what if the thing I want is beyond my control to get? No shoes will make me happy now. Nor any other materialistic symbols, for that matter. Another way of motivating yourself, and perhaps even a better one, is to visualize yourself at the other end; after the work is done, and you've accomplished what you were set up to do. But not even that is helping me, 'cause I really can't see what I'm supposed to be doing then! And where should I be? "Move home, Karin." some people say, while other say "Stay here." I've also heard: "Don't move there, at least." Like that was an option. OK, I'm done singing here - and I'm even further away from organizational culture than when I started this screed, and how to discuss possible actions and measures leaders can take in order to ease the process of organization change and ensure optimal development, is an enigma to me. These discussions should also have an emphasis on how to counteract and manage conflicts and unwillingness to cooperate. Maybe I'm not so numb anyway - a consultant might be a good idea? Someone who can look at the organization with fresh and competent eyes, and set up a plan for the change? A consultant specialized in the field of implementation of strategies, team- and leader development, cultural building, management advice and such? I need a consultant myself, I think...



But aren't you a silly one? Didn't I just tell you not to read the previous paragraph? And yet you did... Don't say I didn't warn you, though. Also, just think of how little you had to read if you only had listened to my advice! How do you feel now?

I'm not crying anymore at least, and hopefully neither are you. So - you go back to whatever you were doing, and I'll just get going - period.

Secret Handshake

Fantastic week it has been, and as someone suggested today: "It seems like you're in a flow?". Well, he would know. ;) But do you know what flow is? According to Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi it's:

"Being completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you're using your skills to the utmost."

Probably the closest I'll ever get to play jazz, but that's OK. I can settle for just listening to the real jazz. Anyway; flow it is, at the moment. But audacious as I am I'd also like to add something to the previous explanation: When I'm in a flow it's a very spiritual state I'm in, and it's like I can see all the connections. And everything is connected. I could certainly dig a whole lot deeper in to this, but I won't as it's not necessary for the time being. Think I'll just tell you about yesterday.'Cause even if you don't see the connections, I do.

A couple of weeks ago I got this mail from an old friend in Sweden. Personally I hadn't seen him for ages, but as he's a close friend of my brother's he's still present in my mind somehow. Well, he said he was coming to Bergen for a conference, and that if I had time for a cup of coffee that would be nice. Deal, I said, and numbers were exchanged. First we met on Wednesday for that coffee, but just a quick one, since he was to meet the rest of the participants for dinner. We chatted casually for half an hour or so, and decided that we'd meet the next day as well. That was yesterday.

The weather was quite miserable, snowing sideways as it was. But nothing a glass of beer couldn't cure. It was quite late already when I arrived in the city, and I also had to reach the 1 o'clock bus home, so we were very efficient and cut to the chase after only one drink. (He's a politician, probably used to make swift decisions...) Now, stop right there my friends, and shame on you! I think I know what you're thinking of! No, this was purely academical, no Hanky Panky, mind you. But somehow he must have sensed that we had more in common that was visible, and I wondered if I had it written on my forehead that my musical taste is somewhat peculiar? So instead of talking about that day's boring lectures about local government, we were soon deeply into intricate musings about jazz. Groovy, swinging jazz. How I love that.

When I got home I sat down in front of the computer and sent him the links I'd promised; the musical milieu here in Bergen is quite good, even if some parts are somewhat underground - almost unknown to the common people. For instance; I told him about that one special happening I went to last month, and that he and his wife would have loved to be there, soaking in all that beat. Foreign drums, and strange tones.

So maybe I'll have visitors here next year from my hometown? That would be so nice, and I could introduce them to some of my friends here. I even have friends who are playing themselves. Then we'd all go to concerts and explore the depths of the Norwegian musical scene together.

Britannia Hall

An Extended Gourmet Weekend

Been traveling again, and I came home late Tuesday night from a few wonderful days. Whereas I the first time didn't do much but simply letting myself be spoiled, this time I was far more active, and amongst other things I took charge of the cooking. Better do what one can do best, right?

On Saturday we went straight from the airport to a Ultra Supermarket, where we went kinda bonkers. We got a large Sushi platter for that first day (well, that didn't involve much cooking for me to be honest, but it was quick and easy, leaving more time for other important things - like getting me a haircut...) and Gorgonzola-filled beef, Amandine potatoes, pepper sauce and broccoli for the following day. As there were no proper frying pan in the flat we had to buy one, and I thoroughly enjoyed being in charge of that too, offering my advice on which quality to choose. Teflon or Titanium. This beef meal I prepared quite late in the evening on Sunday when I had the place to myself, and when my company was back we had a feast together. With more wine. (Maybe needless to say, but there was wine the previous day as well.)

Monday was work day, and again I was left alone for a few hours, and I had all intentions on reading about "100 years of leadership" or whatever the article was called. Found a nice warm place downstairs and curled up with my papers, but soon I fell asleep. That happens all the time when I stress about exams; I find reading acts like sleeping pills! Then a friend from Bergen called and I gave her a status update, which she was pleased to hear about. Everything's fine, was the bottom line. That days dinner was also my doing, and I served a pork tenderloin with more of those delicious potatoes and king oyster mushrooms. Half of the tenderloin was cooked as one piece in the oven, with the potatoes cut in quarters, coated with olive oil and spices. The other half was cut in slices, fried with onions, potatoes, paprika and mushrooms, and creamed together with Créme Fraîche. This was then seasoned with herbal salt. Wine? Of course. And some nice XO Cognac with the coffee afterward.

Last day of my stay we eventually did what we already talked about on Monday, and that was visiting the City and do some shopping. Somehow we didn't get round to it before that. Anyway, Tuesday afternoon I was relieved of my kitchen duties, and we drove downtown. I brought my bags all set to leave for the airport later, so we were quite relaxed. First a wood fired pizza at Tulla Fisher's, and then we just had to check out The Church of Our Lady before anything else! We hurried across the street in the pouring rain, and went inside the old building where a really special event will take place very soon. I'm not much of a churchgoer, but I do like the atmosphere in many of them, and this one fell nicely into that line.

From that holy building we rushed on to the next, where I was treated with a bottle of excellent Irish Whiskey, which I'll enjoy here at home with coffee and cream... and the coffee was bought at the next stop - half a kilo of the best Monsooned Malabar I was given! By now you wouldn't be surprised if I told you I got my own cow as well, to get the cream from? Nope, no cow here. But from all these wonderful gifts, including the shawl and necklace from Spain, I must say the most valuable one is priceless. Time, it is. All those hours spent in editing over 1500 favorite songs, and I was privileged enough to be aloud to download it all! That's one hell of a mixtape, I'd say.

Last stop was Britannia Hotel, and I got a quick but personal tour round the premises. From the beautiful Palmehaven and Hall of Mirrors (where my "tour guide" has been playing so many times...) to the Britannia Hall; a modernly equipped conference hall, decorated with Norway's third largest wall painting on canvas, painted by two of the most famous artists in Trondheim - Håkon Bleken and Håkon Gullvåg.

There were no time to check out the suites though (maybe another time), only a quick cup of coffee at the bar before I had to jump on the bus. And that I did at a quarter to six, more together than I've been in a long time. The key to this success, I believe, is that I've been working on my internal strength for most of the time (I've actually learned a new trick - very exciting!), and that there's learning in every meeting between people. No matter which way it goes.

Paralyzed Or Incited?

So, not much help to get from SIB. Went down to their office today just to see if there was any possible way to get round this dilemma. But no. As it looks now I have to move to the new flat as "ordered" in week 50, regardless of my student status next year. It means I might be staying in the new flat for only a month before I'll move again! But maybe this is just what I needed? The famous "kick in the butt" to finally do something? Instead of waiting for the right moment, maybe this is the time to do it anyway? (And how can I blame other people for not making their mind up, when I'm not exactly Mrs. Speedy Decisions myself? We just have different areas where we linger in indecisiveness...) You see, the new higher standard doesn't come for free, and the rent will increase by nearly 40 %! Which suddenly makes the student housing not so cheap anymore... If I still have to pay an extra 2000,- Nok per month, why don't I just get the h#*¤l out of here, and pay market price for a place where I can stay as long as I want?

Thinking this I had a quick look at finn.no to see what's for rent at the moment. Very saddening, I'd say. But more on a personal level, it has to do with my perception of myself. I don't wanna be that "40 something divorced single mum living in a rented basement flat". Silly I know, and it probably says more about me and my prejudices, than it says anything about all those other 40 something divorced single mums living in a rented basement flat...

Part of me really wants to do what my friend Hannah just did; get rid of almost everything and start over. Right now I'm leaning against giving notice here and see what happens. It all works out in the end, especially if you have faith. In yourself, that is.

Panic Attack!

Previous week I was thinking about how to write the next post, as I wasn't that inspired. Not that I have to write anything, but I thought I could angle the text towards the subject I'm studying, Organizational Psychology, and to be even more specific - Work Motivation. I figure the factors that motivate people to work are the same factors that motivate people to do just about anything. So I had an idea of dissecting Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs (even drew my own in PhotoShop), and relate that to my motivation for writing. Or lack of it.

I think I've said it before, but most of my thinking and writing is done when I'm under some sort of pressure, or have problems that need to be solved somehow. Frustration is a good source for creative thinking, at least that's how it works for me. So as I was quite content, I might even say happy, I didn't feel the urge to express myself verbally. But if I wait just long enough, something is bound to happen... And you know what? To no one's surprise it just did!

Currently I live in a flat in a Student Village. OK, but I'm only eligible to live here for as long as I'm a student. A status which I'm very uncertain about. If I decide to call it a quit after this semester and the Bachelor Degree I'll have to move out within two months after finishing it. If I on the other hand decide to keep on going for a Master as well, I could stay here while doing that. But that's not what's freaking me out right now. You see, they're rehabilitating these flats up here, and the process is done in stages. They finish like 6 or 7 at a time, and we "just" move once into a new apartment. I was hoping this whole thing would be delayed (as these things usually are...), so I'd be out of mine before I had to move permanently. But typically they're on time, and I'm supposed "make the switch" in week 50! If I only could move away from here for good, that would be great, but where should I go? Move home to mommy?

And if this wasn't bad enough, just to move I mean, that actual week is also next course weekend with the Angelos Method. Which by the way has turned out to be yet another "stress factor". In order to be approved, we have to complete 40 client sessions. Something I thought I could do "whenever"... Well, preferably rather sooner than later, but I didn't know there was a time limit. Actually there wasn't, but now there is. If I really want this, those 40 sessions have to be done by April. And I still don't know if that is what I should be doing... Do I have what it takes? The thing is I know I do, but at the moment I can't really feel it, and I'm afraid I'll just keep on waiting for too long for that magical epiphany to occur. Stupid really, when all I have to do is focus. I know my "powers", just have to trust them.

But somehow I know this will work out, 'cause it usually does. It's when I'm the most pressured the best results are coming, and the answers to all my questions have a tendency to reveal themselves when and where I lest expect them to. Also I'm flying up north next weekend, and that will most definitely help me relax and see straight. (Sorry Toril, I know that place isn't considered as North but it's certainly not South either. I just mean it's further north than Bergen, and even your hometown Ålesund! But we can discuss Norwegian geography over a glass of wine my friend. ;) The most important point is that I'm going, right?)

Exhausted now. Partly from this I just told you about, but there's more. My mother's birthday and secret arrangements... exams... sick children... Christmas fairs and baking... and more... and all of it at the same time more or less... But I have to make this clear: I'm not complaining to get sympathy! You don't have to feel sorry for me or anything. (If you want to help me carry my sofa to the next building though, that's another matter...) This is my way of dealing with it. When I write I get some sort of perspective, and I'm aware that you readers not necessarily perceive it the same way I do. That is if you're only a reader - people who actually talk to me get the whole picture. I hope.

My Mother's Work

More Scandinavian Wildlife

If you remember, I told you about some of the fauna I encountered this summer, while on holiday home in Sweden. I'm here again (now for a funeral, but I'll tell you more about that later), and this time I've got a real treat. Or two.

On Wednesday night we had to drop off the Thermoses at the caterer, and her place was quite far off the main road. Which meant we had to use small, unlit roads to get there. Shortly after we'd turned into the darkness we saw something on the road, and we were very surprised to see an owl sitting there, motionless. I drove as slowly and carefully as I could and figured the bird would fly away as we got closer, but he didn't. Maybe he was injured? I stopped completely and thought I'd take a photo of him, but before I'd managed to bring out my mobile the owl lifted off the ground, and away he was... Remarkable. Sitting down he seemed so small, but as soon he spread his wings we could see he was quite impressive in size. I felt blessed; not every day you see an owl.

Next brush with wild animals happened on Friday, and these were much larger; even when they're standing still they seem big. Out on the field (spotted from the car as well), we saw two Alces alces - a mother and her young calf. She was just standing there, intently watching us, while her offspring was grassing. Doubled blessed. The most common encounter with moose is usually a too close one; you sigh in relief when you miss them by inches crossing the road at dusk.

All this talk about wildlife, when there's actually been a funeral! And for a funeral to take place there also has to be death, I'm sorry to remind you about that. But isn't it ironic that the only certain thing in life - our own death - is so difficult to talk about, so taboo? And when it then happens to someone you care about, and you're the one in charge of the arrangements afterwards, you might be so struck with grief that the last thing you can recognize is how to set out the navigation points for your loved one's final journey. More than often I suppose, the service is done by tradition, following the funeral director's guidelines. How relieving isn't it to not have to think, and lay the burden on someone else...

Now my mother had collected things that had some significance to her man, and to them as a couple, and on the day I helped her decorate the coffin. First we spread out the woolen blanket which she had woven and given him last Christmas. (He was wrapped up in it all summer as well, as he was freezing so much.) Then she arranged some of the flowers to a heart shape with a picture of him inside, and next to it the moss and chantarelles found in the forest, while I arranged more of the moss behind that (a delicate kind which look like long strands, hanging down), together with the twig of apples from the garden, and the large and withered old root they picked up one time traveling through Norway. And more flowers. The final result was personal to say the least, but also very, very beautiful. Even the funeral director said so; and she (or the bureau she's working for) didn't make that much money from this one, as my mother didn't want any of their extravagant silver candelabras or any other "special offers". What she did want though, was her niece (my cousin of course...) to sing, which she did just so amazingly well, accompanied by her father on piano and fiancé on guitar.

After the service at the chapel we met at the old school which local householders are running together. Not as a school of course, but it's very charming old building that's now used for different activities for the locals. It was probably a first for a funeral dinner though. But it worked out just fine. Nice food, and a warm atmosphere; the last obviously the most important. This day was as good as a day like that can be. Now the rest of my mother's life starts, and on Tuesday when I go home to Norway her house will be quite empty. I already look forward to welcome her in a few weeks time when she'll be visiting me for her 70th birthday. And I got something planned... (she's not reading this blog so my plans are safe!)

In the meantime I'll have to get my act together, seriously, as I've been neglecting my studies for far too long now. To be honest it doesn't look promising; first coming weekend I have a new course weekend with the Angelos Method coming up, and the following weekend I'm traveling myself again. Insane perhaps, but

a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do... ;)

Beating The Blues

That's the problem with a open heart and soul - they're easy targets. The advantage though, is that they respond well to sincere and competent input. A good friend is someone who not only listens, but more importantly, helps you to see where you're going, and acts much like a guide dog, who stops the blind man as he's about to turn the wrong way.

And my sweet lady friend did just do that. But sticking with the previous metaphor I think my vision was only temporarily impaired, so what she said was still familiar to me, I only needed to be reminded. It's finally time to let go of some old ghosts who are haunting me, scaring away every other possibility of happiness.

This little chat we had at her house. I was there for taking some measurements, helping her out with a practical job; she's putting up a curtain for covering up a shelf, and on Monday we're going to IKEA. Anyway, I'm derailing again, but when we were finished we drove to town to meet two other women, friends of my friend, at Café Sanaa. This is not as much a café as a pub, they're fully licensed, but what's more important is that it's "alive". Alive with music from every corner of the world, and yesterday they had this Gambian griot playing his kora there. Every sad thought I could possibly have was carried away from me with this beautiful music, leaving my soul free and happy again.

After the first song, the kora player was accompanied by a percussionist from Chile. I sat there watching them, and was mesmerized by the sight. Obviously the sound too, but watching them was very special. A communication which needed no other language than the rhythm; the concentration of the Chilean drummer to follow the African tones and beats was to say the least intense. I could see him heaving his chest, taking breaths in full synchrony with the music, and his eyes steadily following the hands of the Gambian man.

Then suddenly we heard a saxophone tuning in - the owner of the place is a man of many talents. During daytime he works as a doctor and researcher, but at night he runs the cafe with his wife and as mentioned, he plays the saxophone. Often as a planned event at this very place, but I guess just as often when he just can't help himself. There's no way stopping the music...

A Taste Of Luxury

Friday night and I'm back where I'm safe; in front of the screen, fingers on the keyboard. I'm starting to understand why some writers live like recluses and show strange eremitical behavior. At least if they feel anything like I do sometimes. I can get to a stage where the written word almost feels more veridical than real life. Reality is too fantastic too be real, or too painful. A dream illusion which you can't have, or a nightmare you wish to wake up from. And sometimes both at the same time... When writing I'm in control, and nothing can hurt me. With words I can do anything, as long as I don't have to step outside for a reality check. OK, "Earth's calling" - enough of this high-flying! Yesterday I went to a happening with my dear Toril, and what a nice evening that turned out to be!

Tom Marthinsen is a well known writer, wine connoisseur and author of wine books, and in conjunction with the launch of his guide to wine tasting he's doing a lecture/wine tasting tour. I'll try to be short here and go straight to the important stuff - the wine. First we were offered a chardonnay from Australia, and reminiscing days gone by I said "Mmmm, just like home". I had no problems picturing myself on a patio Down Under, sipping a glass of white wine at lunch. A chardonnay from the New World is often fresh and laden with tropical flavors of peaches and citrus fruits, and for me it's often been a preferred style. Of course I'd never say no to a nice Chablis but as they're more expensive, I rarely buy them. And then we're only talking about the Petite Chablis, which also was the second wine we got for tasting.

After those two I still thought the Penfolds Koonunga Hill was quite a nice acquaintance, but then came the masterpiece - a Grand Cru Chablis which blew us away. Delicious. Thick-textured yet very refined. Full-bodied and layered with pleasurable flavors, and long on the finish. An open, elegant style, with a juicy structure. Balanced and fine, with depth. And absolutely nothing a student like me can afford. But I just thought it was nice to have tried it, and wasn't thinking I'd have any problems drinking "cheap" wine again. Until Tom told us to have one more sip of the Aussie... We could hear people laugh a little around the tables, 'cause we could all see where he was going; and my sudden vision of having a glass filled with sweet and sticky juice from a can of fruit cocktail was confirmed, as I poured some of it into my mouth... Need I say more?

I just came across this wonderful quote from Franz Werfel, and I thought I'd find a way to intertwine it to the story. I couldn't but I'd like to share it with you anyway, and standing on its own the impression might be even better, leaving it all up to you for interpretation. I'm not saying anything.

"Between too early and too late, there is never more than a moment."

I think it sounds even better in its original language German, so here it is:

"Zwischen zu früh und zu spät liegt immer nur ein Augenblick." (Thanks my friend, for sending it to me.)

But you know me, it's real hard not to say anything, and I do have a few questions as well that could fit in here... ;)

Spa Break

Certainly something every woman should enjoy at least once in her life!

Despite a few travel hiccups (what's new...) I arrived safely late Monday evening, and the resort even had a pickup service at the airport. Pure luxury! And from there it only got better. Imagine being spoiled and pampered beyond belief, from the moment you wake up until you go to bed at night. Steam baths, foot massages, and other body treatments. All meals included, accompanied with beer or wine. No alcohols for breakfast of course, which consisted of an outstanding selection of cold cuts, energy bread, coffee (both regular and espresso) and fresh juice.

The spiritual side of it shouldn't be underestimated, and the emotional boost I received will follow me forever. I've also learned a thing or two about myself, which will be very valuable for me in the future. In a few hours I'll be back home more relaxed and confident than ever. And do you know why? Because I'm worth it! At least that's what I'm told; and experienced and competent aestheticians like that shouldn't be questioned.

Fly On The Wall

My favorite thinking place is often the shower, and so it was this morning. It has been pointed out rather strongly to me that I have a lot to keep track of these days, and that's probably true. So a daily shower keeps me clean - and sane.

As I stood there under the flowing water i felt quite alright, 'cause I had just sorted out one of my "problems". Or potential problem anyway. The insight that led me to that conclusion would most likely help me out with more than a few situations later on as well, and that too made me happy.

Suddenly I had a visitor behind the curtain. A midge came flying and landed on the wall. Euphoric as I was I actually smiled at him! Sounds silly, I know, but from my standpoint he was a living thing, only trying to make contact of some sorts. (No, I don't smoke weed...)

But can you guess what the stupid Chironomidae did? Don't know if he thought I was irresistible or something, but he flew right towards me! Oblivious to the water spray that eventually would flush him down the drain. Poor thing. Hopefully bigger creatures have the strength to stay head above water if they're close to me...

Long And Winding Road

How often do you get the chance to see a potential disaster coming your way in time to make a decision about an appropriate reaction? And this one is coming fast?

Yesterday I paid a visit to "my friend by the sea", and we had as usual a very good time. We've known each other for 18 years now, and seen each other through ups and downs. Well, my friend hasn't that much to do with latent hazards, but it was on my way home from her something happened.

It had already turned dark, and it was a bit rainy as well, so the street lights were reflected on the wet roads, making the conditions a little bit hard. The area out there is a kind of desolated with not that many houses, except from a few small villages. As I approached one I noticed a lit up soccer-field on my right, and more - I saw a ball being kicked over the fence. I guess I could have been a 100 m away, but even if I saw the ball it was very difficult to decide which way it was going. So I just kept on driving. Only seconds later the ball hit the front window bang on, and then bounced away. I almost laughed, while I continued down the road.

But my imagination also told me what could have happened had I not seen the ball coming. Instead of calculating the risks and passing this danger with determination, I could easily have been freaked out and lost control over the vehicle. Yet another car crash.

Jumbo Dumbo

Sometimes I have quite a vivid imagination (except for when some people ask me about certain likes and dislikes...), and this morning I had a film rolling in my head that totally cracked me up. Talked to my father on the phone, and for some reason he told me about a nature program he'd watched on the telly. I must admit I only listened with one ear, but when he said the program had been about African elephants, more specifically the lesser known Forest Elephant, the first scene suddenly opened up in my mind. Instantly I imagined Attenborough's accent and hushed, excited delivery guiding us through the African Wilderness: "He-eah... in the rain forest of the Congo Basin... we can find... the Hidden Giants." So far this could actually have been authentic, but to Attenborough's narration I also added the drawings of Larson, which made all the difference... In perfect Far Side-style I could see program host lurking among the trees, while trying to spot the elephants. Attenborough explains about these animal's peculiar behavior and tilts his head upwards. "There... hiding in the crown of the tree... an elephant is sitting... cautiously looking down on us." In my head now the whole herd is doing strange things up there - some are awkwardly climbing the boles of the trees; one or two are sleeping, hanging down like bats, only using their trunks to hold on to the branches; and others are peeling bananas like chimps.

Reminds me of one of those jokes I learned as a kid (why do I always remember the old bad ones...):

-Why do elephants wear red sneakers?
-Don't know.
-So, no one can spot them while stealing cherries in the cherry tree.
-Have you ever seen an elephant in a cherry tree?
-No.
-Well, there you go. It works!

Weekend

Dinner was good, and the conversation was even better. How glad I am I have my wonderful friends, and spending a Sunday evening like this was a nice way of rounding off the weekend.

Friday I went to a party downtown. There were almost 50 people there, but I knew only one from before. Luckily for me though he offered great support in this new environment, and next morning a nice breakfast too. ;) Yes, real lucky I am. The rest of Saturday was spent trying to get rid of a terrible headache, and I didn't do much at all. The beginning of Sunday was quite lazy as well, except for the little work I contributed with at this voluntary thing we had where I live. I was saved from most of it by a phone call (talked for an hour...), and after that I did some odd jobs around the house, right up until I went to see my friend for dinner.

But the last thing I did on Sunday was actually buying tickets for next week; I'm treating myself with a few relaxing days up north. It'll be like a spa break. And I deserve it, right?

As Sure As Eggs Are Eggs

No time for any lengthy posts right now, I'm off to meet my dear friend Kari, who's invited me to dinner. And she'll probably get the full report on recent events, poor thing. Some of it might be a little too much...

So instead of writing an essay here about a complicated love-life, I'll share with you a little thing that happened earlier. With no reference what so ever to anything at all.

My daughter made cookies today, and on the kitchen counter she left the empty egg carton. Or so I thought. I put it down on the floor to step on it. Make it flat for the paper recycling bin. Well, it wasn't empty. Talking about treading on eggs here! Or did I just lay an egg? And then left with egg on my face?

Anger Management

I realized something today, and that is that I find it hard to write when I'm angry. I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm sad. And at most other times too. But it seems I'm not that good with anger. A feeling I usually suppress, if I can't see the reason for it. I do know it can be used creatively; anger is a strong feeling , and even if you can't figure out why you're mad, you can still use the energy of it. A talent which I don't fully possess. So when yesterday I felt like screaming and shouting - I could even hear the words in my head - I didn't know what to do with it. Instead I'm sitting hear today, calmly analyzing my emotional state on an abstract level. Not the best way to handle it I guess. Always being rational.

Am I thinking too much? Oh yes, definitely, at times. And now I have even more people telling me that. But what the hell am I supposed to do then? (Did you notice? An expletive. Progress one might say.) I feel 'thinking' is the only thing I can do at times. But since much of my thinking sooner or later emerge in text-form anyway, I just better have to find a way to express this fury in words too. But it might take some time, 'cause my cursing never lasts long, especially when I have this fantastic Courvoisier X.O. to sooth my mind. A tiny sip and I'm quite content.

Had We Only Known...

Imagine how a single piece of information could change 30 years in an instant. How a few facts you've known all the time suddenly turns into a lifelike movie in your head just because you've learned something new about what happened back then. All you knew before was that this boy had been quite a fragile boy with asthma; he lived with his mother who spoiled him beyond belief. You were also told that the mother was a little nuts as well, and died when the boy was 8 or something. He then moved to his father. These were the "facts", and you grew to hate this boy.

He was a nightmare, totally unaware of other's needs or feelings, always living in his own world. Very intelligent, but a failure at school, and he could never finish anything. Quiet and withdrawn he would just exist to close to you for comfort. Hard to understand, except for the times when music talked for him. He was passionate about music and sounds, and he was a true technical whizkid.

You've spent so many years trying to avoid any confrontation with this boy, the irritation and uneasiness he provoked in you was just too much to bear. Until the day his half-sister tells about those last years of the boy and his mother.

The mother had cancer, and went in and out of the hospital for a long time. Of course she wanted to be with her son, but she was all alone, and there was no one to help out. Or explain anything to the boy. All he could do when his mother laid bent over the bucket and threw up her intestines, was to shut out the world with the headphones on. There he stood upright next to the record player, letting the music into his mind to subdue the fear and despair. The sound of his mother's sickness was replaced by guitars and drums.

When he was hungry he was sent to the nearest kiosk with money in his pocket for a hot dog. How this little boy must have hurt! No wonder he almost turned autistic as his half-sister now tells. All this considered we now realized this boy has turned out remarkably well. He's got a fantastic daughter, not raised by him though, but I guess he hasn't spoiled her either. He's also finished some education, and got a good job. (In computers of course...) And he's got a girlfriend, who's been with him for quite some time now.

But had we only known...

I had in mind to continue here with something about learning & communication, but I don't have the time now. Have to rush out and feed my son, they're serving fish at the base today... Hopefully I'll find the time and inspiration this weekend to write a whole new post instead.

Bright & Shiny - Not...

...to early for that.

Usually I don't write blogposts this early in the morning, then again- I'm usually not awake at all at this hour. I may be in upright position, getting my daughter school and such, but awake? Not that often.

So what's the occasion? Wireless connection at the hotel. I thought that was so fancy I just had to make use of it. (Kinda obvious I don't stay at hotels that often, ha?) And also I'm wide awake now after the Tylenol has kicked in, I've had a splitting headache most of the night. Probably the tension was too much. But I'm fine now, and looking forward to a nice breakfast before I continue my journey.

Midnight Ramblings

My sincere apologies for being slightly incoherent recently, I can see that you might have problems following my writing here. I mean, even I have problems!

It could be due to the fact that I actually do a lot more writing currently than this blog is showing, and that I also have to keep that writing separate from this in a way. Difficult since I'm, after all, just me. (No Dissociative Identity Disorder to help me out there.) And sometimes it's all a little overwhelming for a poor woman to handle.

So how should I go about in order to make more sense? Well, I'll figure it out sooner or later. I usually do...

But I could tell you about some of my strange dreams; haven't done that in a while, have I?

Twice in the last couple of weeks I've had if not the same dream, dreams with shared components. In both dreams I was on my way to Sweden, which I actually am later this week, and although the circumstances where different, I somehow forgot to pack what I needed for the stay. I was on my way with empty bags. And I felt kinda panicky.

I actually have experienced this funky feeling when I'm awake too, and that also within the last fortnight. I wonder if I'll manage to pack everything for my expedition? We'll see...

Net Activities

It's getting harder and harder to keep perspective of what I'm doing at the moment. I feel like I'm a spider with too many flies caught, and while pulling the strings I'll get tangled up in my own net.

This came out really dramatic, I know, and I apologize for that, but I kinda feel a little theatrical these days. Working myself into a character so to speak.

You might wonder what persona that is? So do I, to be honest. Have a feeling though something interesting, yet very unexpected, is about to emerge, but the final stage of it is still very vague. If there is a final stage - hopefully this will continue to evolve gradually. Becoming a therapist is an adventurous journey, and I'm amazed at all the surprises along the way. I have a feeling now though that my therapeutic work won't be all that traditional. As always, I'll find my own path. Spreading light and helping people redeem themselves can be done in more than one way...

Bad Hair Day

A man walks up to a woman in his office each day, stands very close to her, draws in a large breath of air and tells her that her hair smells nice.

After a week of this, she can't stand it any longer, and goes to HR.
Without identifying the guy, she tells them what the co-worker does, and that she wants to file a sexual harassment suit against him.

The HR supervisor is puzzled by this approach, and asks, "What's sexually threatening about a co-worker telling you your hair smells nice"?

The woman replies, "It's Benny, the dwarf."

A Blissful Afternoon

Well thank you, for excellent counseling and much needed support, my friend. What would I do without you?

See - I can make it short! This text I mean, that 5-minute coffee was quite extended...

A Blissfully Normal Day...

...so far.

As mentioned before, my son is currently doing his military service in the Navy, and he's been there for 8 months now, slowly getting towards the end of it for this time. He's getting a little tired of it all, now facing 12 hours shifts for 10 days followed by only a 2 day break. And then another 10 days, and so on... But he's not complaining while there, and he must have been doing a good job too, 'cause he just got promoted. Good boy.

One thing he really misses is playing basketball, and when the opportunity came today to play for his team he wasn't slow to say yes. Of course I had to pick him up at the base, and presumably drive him back again in an hour, but that's only a pleasure. Watching him like a giddy little child running around on the court was worth a lot more. And when his younger sister also wanted to come along and watch the game - well that was priceless. It all gave me a reminder of a "normal" family life, which I truly miss, and these days I needed that anchor even more.

They lost game though, but thats' not important here. And Thomas did a great job, especially considering he hasn't played for a very long time.

Undercover

Of all the things I could have been studying, some seem more interesting than others. And only because I’m not taking a degree in Social Anthropology, I can still read the stuff and do my own “research”, can’t I? I wouldn’t say this is done by a specific or exact method, but one widely used method is participant observation. In a real field study of a social group the ethnographer is usually known for what he is and merely observes, while in this case I’m more of a participant, i.e. I think this resembles more observing or creative participation, “which leaves more room for non-materialistic cognition” where “dynamic movements which can not be measured from disconnected or relative viewpoints can be captured by means of feelings”.

So how far into a social group is it justifiable to explore in order to trying to understand it, without risking getting totally absorbed by the culture one is set out to investigate? Guess that in large depends on the ethnographer himself, how mentally strong he (or she) is, but also if there are reliable connections to the outside world, for support and reassurance. I presume some kind of safety line would be a good idea. Like Neo's phone for exiting the Matrix...

There are other movies I could link to here, like Training Day where Denzel Washington's character Alonzo gets so absorbed by the street he's supposed to be watching that he no longer knows which side he belongs to. If you haven't seen this film I strongly recommend it, and therefore I won't spoil the end for you. But let's just say I hope I'll get out sooner than he does...

I presume the risk of getting too involved is higher the more you can identify yourself with the culture you're studying, and that familiar feeling might also be the reason you're choosing that particular society for your survey in the first place. It sort of chooses you. And as me, you might approach this culture feeling intrigued and intimidated at the same time, driven by curiosity.

I confess to sometimes be speaking in an enigmatic way, and I guess this is one of those times. But at this point I won't explain any further, and when/if I do, it'll probably be somewhere else. I just wanted to relieve myself of some of the thoughts I have these days; a way of abstracting myself from what's happening. Letting a little air into the cover.

First Kiss

He's just about to kiss you, and a lot of questions come to your mind:

Is this the right moment?

Is anyone looking?

Do I really want this?

Do I smell OK?

Then you're thinking...

What the hell! and just Do it!!!

Hooked On A Feeling

Björn Skifs has been around for a long time - and worldwide he's mostly known for "Hooked On A Feeling". This is a much more resent song, which my mother directed me to when it hit the Swedish charts in 2003. Listened to it over and over, and cried every time I think. I was pretty sad back then.

Haven't listened to it for some time now, and I'm not sure why I suddenly remembered it. Anyhow, here it is. Still makes me cry, although I'm not that sad anymore:



"Hold my heart
hold my soul"

The Oz Maneuver

There's no place like home, she said, tapped the heels of her red shoes, and in a jiffy she was back home in Kansas. When she tells about her journey her family and friends insist it was all a dream. You're safe now, Dorothy!

I'll have to settle for a McAllan Elegancia for comfort...

Streetwise

Now it's only two days until Hannah leaves for Scotland, and we had a little meeting downtown tonight. Nice dinner, a couple of glasses of wine and a cognac. And a lot of laughs. So all in all a very memorable evening, and the fact that we won't see each other that often wasn't mentioned. Thanks to digital technology it won't feel that distant, and besides - her happiness is of course the most important issue in this case.

A funny thing happened while I was waiting for her, and her sister who was joining us for dinner. I walked slowly down the street where we'd arranged to meet, and suddenly this man approached me. He looked a little puzzled, and asked politely if I spoke Norwegian or English. "Both" I replied, and waited for the next question, which I presumed would be something about direction. To my astonishment he said: "You look so lovely, can we perhaps meet today or tomorrow for drinks or something to eat?" Well, that's really something, isn't it? I was so relieved when Hannah and Ruth walked round the corner just in time to rescue me...

Risotto Retry

I made the risotto today instead, although today I didn't need the calming effect of making it as described yesterday. Today it was just for fun an nutrition. What a shame though to enjoy that all on my own? I think I better pack the ingredients and invite myself over to someone the next time. So beware! There might be an Italian feast coming to your door in the near future!

Yesterday a very odd feeling struck me - hence the risottocookingurge. It wasn't a low feeling, just odd and perhaps a little frightening too. The previous week with course weekend, cleaning and moving with my friend, and some dodgy activities on the net had left me in a very peculiar state of mind. So I called the local Help Team (consisting of one very solid member) which responded promptly. I'd say he's my rock, and after some private counseling and a cup of coffee in town, I felt so much better. Did I mention he's also a very good kisser? That helped too.

What's Cookin'?

Today I think I'll make risotto, but more for therapeutic reasons. Of course it'll taste divine in the end too, but the actual cooking of it? I simply love it. Nothing like making a risotto when you're too wind up, 'cause you can't rush it. All steps has to be followed carefully; and although cooking risotto isn't difficult, you do have to put your time and heart in it.

First there's the sauteing of the finely chopped onion in extra virgin olive oil, and this stage is called soffrito. The next is tostatura in which you add the uncooked rice grains and gently "seal" them in the hot oil. After this comes the time consuming cottura stage, where the hottish chickenstock is added one ladleful at a time, stirring more or less continuously. (There are numerous variations of risotto, but not even all basic recipes uses white wine which I consider a must. Two glasses, one for the risotto and one for the chef, is part of what makes this dish so tasteful, in my opinion, and is added before the stock.) This third stage is also the one I so much enjoy, while it's very meditative, I think. You have to be careful that the rice neither is drown in liquid nor is cooked dry. If all this is performed to perfection, the all’onda stage almost comes as a natural result, but it is a bit tricky; judging when the rice has cooked to al dente. Final stage, mantecare, is when the risotto becomes creamy after a dash of butter and grated Parmagiano cheese is added, and is let to rest for a few minutes before serving

I see now it took me so long to write this, that all I have time for today is a couple of sandwiches - which will only satisfy my hunger, but will offer no relief for my mind...

Playmate Of The Year

I think I've just found out one of the reasons for discontent and unhappiness. And that is boredom.

It probably goes for a lot of people, but I can only talk for myself. I see now that having someone to play with is very important, as playing isn't for fun but for learning. This most likely goes without saying regarding kids, but I'm thinking more of our adult lives. As we never stop learning, why should we stop playing? One definition of play is that it "is freely chosen, intrinsically motivated and personally directed". Well put.

I need to play, to stimulate my own growth. I need to be excited and inspired - on my terms. In order to stay alert I need to be challenged. And when I play I'm happy.

Remember from growing up that my friends thought I was creative; and even if I got the initial idea from my older brother, the intricate machines I built from paper, string and sticky tape fascinated the other kids. I'm not building machines anymore, and I think for a long time I didn't play at all. Of course I could play with myself, but it's so much more rewarding having someone to throw the ball to. The interaction gets more complicated if there's more than one participant in the game, and the reactions are harder to predict. Have to stay sharp then.

There are zillions of books discussing the topic of play, much due to the fact that it's so fundamental for human development, and I guess a lot of people think that by analyzing the phenomenon in such detail you might kill the spirit of it. I don't think so. The kids in the playground won't read Caillois or Jenkinson, and I don't play with buckets and spades anymore. This is my kind of game.

And here's a wicked one:

End Of 2nd Year Conclusion

The poetry nerve twitched a little yesterday at the course, and as I keep paper and pen close by anyway (a lot of smart things are said in that environment) I let my hand execute that order:

Steamy Windows

I woke up a at 1 pm today after only a few hours sleep, totally exhausted from last night. Came home this morning just in time to give my youngest her bus money.

These three days with the Angelos Method have been, although fantastic also pretty tough, and when finished yesterday evening I really looked forward to go home and hit the pillow. Just had to pay a friend of mine a little visit first, but didn't plan to stay long. When I got there there were a few people there already, and before I know it I was involved in all the stuff that was going on around the house. Things were moved here and there, and it got quite steamy. Bedrooms, hallways, living room and kitchen. The cellar too. In fact I think every room was worked on.

Around midnight the others left and it was just me and my friend left. And we kept it going like it was no tomorrow. At one point the neighbors complained about us being too loud and called the police, which responded and came to our door at 3.30 in the morning. They told us to keep it quiet until the morning, and we said we'd behave. The handsome man in uniform also asked for a phone number if they had to call us again. I gave him mine. So we slowed down a little, and tried to make as little noise as possible. At 6.30 we could wait any longer, and continued for another hour at full steam.

When we said goodbye in the morning, she gave me a hug and called me her angel. We had one last look back and and recalled all the happy memories we've had in there, wine shared and sincere conversations. Then she locked the door behind her and knew we had made it. Her house was emptied and cleaned for the next owners to take over! She was ready to bring the rest of her belongings and move to Scotland to her loving new man, and a fresh new start in life.

I went to my car and put my invaluable Kärcher steam cleaner
in the back seat and drove home.

Educating Myself

There's so many ways to improve ones knowledge, and so many areas that are interesting. I try my best to be open-minded and indulge in more than a few of life's aspects. Informatics, philosophy, psychology, art, literature and more. Could go on for quite some time, but that's not the point here. But one important thing is to explore the spiritual side of me, and this weekend will be the final of the second year of the Angelos Method. I have a feeling this will be a challenging one, and a lot of stuff will surface. I really look forward to it, I'm going in - ready to face myself. Which is usually the hardest part for everyone.

Adiós, amigos!

In My Sphere

As it has been established for quite some time now that the Earth is round (or spherical), not flat, it shouldn't be any danger involved pushing ones boundaries, right? Seeking out my limits shouldn't mean I will fall off the edge of the Earth? I guess when I broaden my horizons the way I am now, the only thing I risk is seeing the whole World then? Exciting thought. I'll send you a post card...

Home Security

Security can mean so much, and although I think I'm not reckless with my self and risk my own safety, I don't care that mach about locking doors. Well, the front door I always lock, but the backdoor in the kitchen I often forget. And mind you, it's not that easily accessible anyway. But it can be reached, which I proved yesterday.

When I got home from the university, just in time to watch the final minutes of Friends, I found out that the key wasn't in its usual hiding place. (An arrangement we have to use while we are more people staying here than I have keys.) I immediately thought of the other door, and hoped that it was open. But how would I get there? I've seen a ladder hanging somewhere around here, on one of the buildings, and went looking for it. Found it, but it was secured with a chain and a padlock. For which I needed my house key...

Luckily enough I have friendly neighbors, so I asked for help. (See, I also need help from time to time. and I have no problem asking for it either.) Irene lent me her key and I went on the mission of "breaking" in to my own house. It all went well, but you should have seen me on the ladder... Due to certain circumstances it needed to be placed in a low steep which made it extremely wobbly. And me too... But the victorious feeling I had when I stood inside was tremendous.

Easy Peasy - Copy & Paste

This is an old one, still funny though...

Subject: George Hu?

(We take you now to the Oval Office.)

George: Condi! Nice to see you. What's happening?

Condi: Sir, I have the report here about the new leader of China.

George: Great. Lay it on me.

Condi: Hu is the new leader of China.

George: That's what I want to know.

Condi: That's what I'm telling you.

George: That's what I'm asking you. Who is the new leader of China?

Condi: Yes.

George: I mean the fellow's name.

Condi: Hu.

George: The guy in China.

Condi: Hu.

George: The new leader of China.

Condi: Hu.

George: The Chinaman!

Condi: Hu is leading China.

George: Now whaddya' asking me for?

Condi: I'm telling you Hu is leading China.

George: Well, I'm asking you. Who is leading China?

Condi: That's the man's name.

George: That's whose name?

Condi: Yes.

George: Will you or will you not tell me the name of the new leader of China?

Condi: Yes, sir.

George: Yassir? Yassir Arafat is in China? I thought he was in the Middle East.

Condi: That's correct.

George: Then who is in China?

Condi: Yes, sir.

George: Yassir is in China?

Condi: No, sir.

George: Then who is?

Condi: Yes, sir.

George: Yassir?

Condi: No, sir.

George: Look, Condi. I need to know the name of the new leader of China. Get me the Secretary General of the U.N. on the phone.

Condi: Kofi?

George: No, thanks.

Condi: You want Kofi?

George: No.

Condi: You don't want Kofi.

George: No. But now that you mention it, I could use a glass of milk. And then get me the U.N.

Condi: Yes, sir.

George: Not Yassir! The guy at the U.N.

Condi: Kofi?

George: Milk! Will you please make the call?

Condi: And call who?

George: Who is the guy at the U.N?

Condi: Hu is the guy in China.

George: Will you stay out of China?!

Condi: Yes, sir.

George: And stay out of the Middle East! Just get me the guy at the U.N.

Condi: Kofi.

George: All right! With cream and two sugars. Now get on the phone.

(Condi picks up the phone.)

Condi: Rice, here.

George: Rice? Good idea. And a couple of egg rolls, too. Maybe we should send some to the guy in China. And the Middle East. Can you get Chinese food in the Middle East?

(HU'S ON FIRST - By James Sherman

Clearing Away

It's not hard letting out a helping hand to my friends, at least not when they pay me so well...

Jokes aside; I'd gladly help them any day if I could, and this weekend I had the privilege to assist not less than two needy creatures. That was also a joke, they are very competent women, and are fully capable of taking care of themselves. Furthermore, one of the rescue missions wasn't even asked for, it just happened that way.

First one out was a kind of technical support, my friend wanted to buy a new mp3-player and thought I had some valuable input. (Me? A techno-freak? How did she ever get that idea...) We met in town, but as I told her I've seen one in the paper suitable for her (Crazy lime green too!), at Lefdal, we drove out to suburbia. The purchase went smoothly, and after that I gave her a ride to her work, as I was going that direction anyway. My son at Haakonsvern had forgotten his charger and watch...

Next appointment on the list was my lady friend who these days is emptying her house; she's moving out in less than a week. I told you about this love story a while ago, and now she's getting rid of everything in order to travel as lightly as possible. Like I said I didn't go there to help, we just thought a last Saturday night together would be nice - she'd cook up a pizza with mozzarella, sun dried tomatoes and olives. And I'll bring a bottle of red. I also brought my new therapy table and she had a lie down, while floating off to Indian's land flying with the eagles... So the table is consecrated and I'm ready to send the next poor soul off to Dreamland!

Obviously I won't drive after consuming alcohol (at least not in this country), so I stayed the night, and with her kids away there were plenty of extra beds. I didn't plan on staying that long this morning, but after breakfast we somehow started to look at some of the stuff from the attic she was sorting out. Short version: after 3 hours I think most of the kid's old school books and drawings were done. And if they some day want to complain about how little their mother saved they better come to me!

Did I mention payment? Well, for driving around to electrical outlets and so on I'll get a bottle of wine, and for that next "job" I brought home a fair measure of liquids as well. It's spiced with almond, lemon peel, licorice, grains of paradise, orris root, angelica, coriander, cassia, cubeb, and most distinctively juniper berries. Ring a bell? Good with tonic? I'm enjoying one right now? No? Ok, it's Bombay Sapphire, one of the best gins there is.

It shouldn't be necessary to point out that I don't expect to get paid in any way for helping someone, I simply consider this quality time with people I care about. And the discussions we have while working are priceless - talks about men, sex, relationships... Sharing intimate thoughts like that, and realize that you're not alone, that's pretty amazing. And it also helps me on my way. It's all starting to come together now and I can see an outline of a life that I can truly appreciate.

Busy Bee

Sometimes it doesn't matter what you do, as much as you're actually doing something, and today I've been swirling around like a giddy cat while working on one thing after another. Or more precisely, most tasks were running simultaneously. That's flow.

The therapy table arrived today, and it looked just as I hoped it would. Hopefully it'll work to my (and your?) satisfaction too. With the Angelos Method we use a variety of aids and tools, and every therapist developes his or her own preferences and a personal style to the healing. But one very powerful tool we've been introduced to so far is the eagle feather, but as trading with these are illegal we can only hope for finding one on the ground or recieving it as a gift. When we first were told about this shamanistic tool I immediately connected it to my father somehow, having a vague memory of a feather of some sort in his boat. I looked forward to the summer, and vacation in Sweden, so I could check it out. But I didn't have to go far; imagine how surprised I was when I found two feathers stuck to the cornice at my father's house!

So one of the things I did today was to sew this carrying case for my feathers:





Then I had a totally different thing going on as well.

Yesterday afternoon my son came home with ten Scallops which I cleaned in probably less than ten minutes. (I'm quite proud of my technique, if I must say myself...) Anywhos, the scallop muscles went into the freezer, and the innards and empty shells I placed in triple plastic bags and put that by the door to bring to the garbage room next morning. Today that is, and I found out the bags had been leaking. Do you have any idea how bad that can smell? If it only had been on the floor, but no such luck. Straight on to my diving-belt it seeped. Which by the way is just lying there in the hallway, reminding me everyday of a past life. One day I might get back into the water though; with the right encouragement everything is possible. And a few weeks of lifting weights...

Well, cleaning that belt was a good start! It is quite heavy, and had it been a traditional belt with lead blocks it would have been easy to rinse. But mine is a shot belt, soft fabric pouches filled with lead shots, and washing it with detergent and rinsing it afterwards meant a lot of lifting! But it was due, I'd say; a little exercise will only do me good.

A nice day at home - sewing, cleaning, cooking, writing. And a bit of thinking. Don't be alarmed, not that worrying kind I've beed paractising too much. This was the good kind, about future plans and ideas, and about the course I'm taking now. Now, that was a smart choice! Organizational Psychology is something I'll probably write more than once about in the near future.

Table Update

I'm so impressed! Not only are package deliveries handled amazingly speedy these days, but I can also follow my package on it's way to me. Believe I've mentioned this on another occasion, the camera I think it was, but I appreciate this kind of technology so much I just had to comment on it again. Just follow a link in the mail to UPS, and - voilà! - there we go:

Wanna Lie Down?

This I ordered today, and in a few days it'll be delivered to my door. But it's portable so I can come to you as well for treatment. I need Guinea Pigs for my practise...

Still Shining!

I'm not sure who had the brightest smile today, the Sun or me, but I think even without the Sangria (which I probably couldn't have handled anyway on top of the beer and cognac...) it was as good as it could be. Thank you for that, my prince. You certainly know how to keep a girl happy.

And here's another one of my new wild friends from Sweden - the frog's lucky "cousin":

Working Girl

Last year a close friend of mine asked me if I'd be interested in a job. A job which she was offered but couldn't take, and she thought I'd be perfect for it. Back than I didn't have the time, so the excuses I really wanted to use weren't necessary to say out loud. This year she had to refuse the same job again, but now she knew I'd be looking for part-time work, and so she tried me one more time. She said straight away:

-And don't even think about making up silly excuses, unless the one from last year still applies!

How well she knows me... I said I'd be thinking about it, but somehow I knew I'd be saying yes. And besides, any problems I encounter she can help me with! Any guess what I'll be doing? I'm both terrified and excited at the same time, 'cause the next month or so I'll be holding a cooking class for kids! Wish me luck...

Scandinavian Wildlife

You wouldn't believe all the strange creatures I've seen this summer, and just to put you in the right mood, I'll start with my new hate object. The kind of beast that makes ticks almost nice. Well, not really, but anyhow – have you heard of the deer ked? If not, consider yourself lucky. This little bugger isn't regarded as particularly harmful to humans, but as Wikipedia says "it can be a nuisance". In my opinion that's an understatement. You wonder why?

Lipoptena cervi is a fly, but I'd like to think of it more as a flying spider. It won't fly very far though, only 50 mtrs or so, and as soon as it lands on its "victim" (deer or elk mostly) it sheds its wings and starts burrowing through the fur in search for its first meal. And that's blood. The parasite then lives its life there while reproducing several times. Nasty. But why do I loath this insect more than other?

It doesn't buzz so you won't notice if it's heading your way. Then suddenly you feel something tickle and crawl around, and this is where you can freak out. It won't go away! It's flat and hard (some have suitably nicknamed it "Armor Fly"), and its feet have claws (!) at the end. You can wave and brush all you want; it'll still be clinging to your skin. I had one on me, it got under my skirt and I got so worked up that I undressed right there in the yard. My mother was there as well, and with combined efforts we caught the bastard in a tissue. I'm usually neither vindictive nor cruel, but after crushing the "fly" in the paper we also decided to set fire to it, just to make a statement. We put it down on the ground, lit a match and brought it to the paper – waiting for that sweet feeling of revenge as the bloodsucker would go up in smoke. It must have laughed long and hard, that six legged monster from hell, while we watched in disbelief as it crawled out of the paper and disappeared…

Apart from that fly thing, which I had only two encounters with, the rest of the observed fauna was exclusively good natured. I had a moose crossing the road, but I was driving quite slowly, and he was behaving at his best. No turning mid air as they sometimes do. We also had numerous visits of roe deer in the field; they just loved the vetch the neighbour farmer had sown. The roes ran alongside hares and rabbits. This picture I think most people agree sounds idyllic, but I'm not so sure everybody shares my excitement over that other guest I had. One night I had a bat flying around in my bedroom! Very cute, I think, but he was gently manoeuvred back out through the open window.

And all the frogs! Don't think I've ever seen as many as this summer. Literally.