Cats & Cuddles

Suddenly realized that it's almost two weeks since I last posted anything here, and had that been due to a busy Holiday with lots of festivities and socializing I imagine that'd be a good sign. But my Christmas has been quite slow, even at a standstill on some days. A snowed in car with summer tires, and a diminished wallet, rather effectively takes care of any urges to dash out or splash out. So for most of the time I've been cooping here - just me and the two cats. The old one does nothing but sleep, eat and crap, but the little one is a pretty good counterbalance to that lazy old thing. The little rascal is literary everywhere; one second she's found her way to the hat rack via my coat, the next she's halfway up the curtains. When not climbing things, she's practicing her ambushing skills by leaping out of nowhere onto an unsuspecting oldster. That looks unbelievably funny by the way, as she's practically flying straight forward with all legs stretched out. Kinda like a cartoon cat.

But since I have no intention of becoming that old crazy woman with only cats for companionship, and accordingly I have to defy the obstacles and get out there regardless. Which I did on Monday, and boy am I glad I did! Much better company than a cat; less claws but just as affectionate. Definitely more fun.

And tomorrow's New Years Eve. Nothing special planned, but my son and his girlfriend are coming for dinner. Think I'll go for something simple, yet tasty. Why not a Shepherd's Pie? May sound very ordinary, but cooked with wine and the best of ingredients it's an absolute treat. And in Norway also kind of a luxury since wine, beef and Cheddar cheese can be a bit pricey. Sounds like I've made up my mind, Shepherd's Pie it is!

Happy New Year, everybody!!!

My Blog: P291209_05.270002.JPG

Good Morning!

Let's Get To Work

After 2 hours of guidance talk with Irene I feel a lot better. Although the talk is for me as a therapist, it obviously has to do with me as a person as well. The two are inseparable, and the way to become a good therapist is to acknowledge and understand my own patterns and feelings, and recognize them in others.

So now I have a job to do, and it will be a tough one. A lot of digging and scrutinizing, and it will be very emotional with lot of anger and tears. The tough part won't be the actual work, but not telling about it. I see now that part of my problem ha been that regarding certain aspects of my past I have only dealt with them on a logical plane. I know that I've been mistreated and hurt, and I carry wounds that prohibits me from being the true Karin. But I haven't totally excepted it, haven't felt it in my heart. There are still parts of me that make excuses for the abuse. By telling I can hope to get sympathy and understanding, but it can also make it harder to connect to the core feeling of the issue.

All this is not meant to be a start up for some revenge tour, it's much simpler than that. Once I truly accept the past, the energy of the matter will be gone, and I'll be free to move forward.

Midweek Lunch

Me and Toril had lunch yesterday at our regular place, Molière, and I consider myself lucky to have a friend like her. An hour and a half of revitalizing conversation while enjoying nice food, accompanied by even nicer wine. Hell of a lot nicer. No day is wrong for a glass of Amarone, if you ask me.

Most of our talk should remain private, and it's not that interesting for others anyway. We've been through so much similar stuff, and we do understand each other quite well. (Our ex's share certain experiences of their own, which carry a rather high entertainment value for me and Toril.)

So this is just to say "Thank you, Toril. For a wonderful lunch (again), and the best of companies.) Take care, and have a fantastic time i Cape Town with your kids and friends. See you next year!"

The Thing

Do you know what his "thing" is? my friend asked. The more I think about it, the more it hurts. The question came after I, slightly dejected, wondered why not he finds me as desirable as my regular friends keep saying I am. (A real catch, right?) I didn't ask for an answer really, it was more of a spoken thought, but I guess she was trying to help me. The "thing" she was referring to was what his "soft spot" was, what he couldn't resist in a woman. The thing that made him actually fall in love. Like it was a secret formula somehow. I said: Do you mean it's up to me then? Should I change somehow? Just perform the magic trick, which would make him realize he can't live without me?

I must admit I've actually been thinking it myself, you know, in the line of not being good enough. Not possessing all the qualities compatible with real girlfriend material. Not being the perfect dream of a woman. But actually hear from a friend that it might be my own "fault"? Well, that hurts a little. Now I know she didn't mean it that way, but I can't help but perceive it like that. As I confronted her she referred to the fact that some men seem to know exactly what women want, and know how to play their cards. Making the women fall like ripe fruit. Like these men have cracked the code of seduction. Sure, it's like being a good politician, winning your voters over. But as I see it, they won't stay loyal if they discover that it was merely a charm offensive, and nothing that'll last.

I want to believe that being myself will be enough in the end, and that I don't have to be taller, slimmer, funnier, richer, quieter, more beautiful, more successful, more whatever they want.

And also, I don't know if I'm strong enough to hear it, if it actually is true what she's saying. I think I rather want to believe the story I'm told. Gullible me. Otherwise I have to join a gym and write a best-seller. Or maybe just keep my mouth shot from time to time.

Christmas Cards

This year I'll be writing Christmas cards. Nothing extraordinary with that, you might think, and it isn't. For most people. Some people even expect you to write them. I haven't sent a single card for years now, probably stopped shortly after the divorce. Not that he was particularly involved in the writing, but the concept of Christmas cards somehow was connected to that life. Marriage and children, family. I don't say it is so, but that's how I felt. Maybe 'cause all the cards I received were from families. So after a round or two with trivial cheers from happy couples and their kids, who I actually had no contact with, I didn't bother any more. After another year or so they stopped coming also, except for the very predictable one from my ex brother-in-law with wife and kids. They go to Thailand each November and take care of the business there with a family photo. The smiles are getting wider and the kids taller for each year.

Now I hardly know any happy couples, if that ever was a criteria for getting a card from me. I found a bunch of funny cards in Edinburgh, and I'll probably start writing soon. So don't be surprised if you get one, I might even have the perfect one for you especially!

Elucubration

What a blessing this book is; from now on I don't have to write a single post on my own! (Although I wouldn't count on it, you probably have to endure my tantrums and frustrations even in the future.) With Dr Johnson's book I can simply pass off a random quote whenever I get the feeling you're missing me. ;) So, with no particular reference to anything I give you a few from E and F:

Eadi. (Ee-dee) a. Wealthy. Describes a condition once believed to result from work, but now universally regarded as attainable only by correctly predicting a series of numerals, or (which there is a greater chance of doing) by becoming a professional footballer.

Flirtigig. (Fler-ti-gig) n. A giddy female. A fizgig on Buck's Fizz.

Fizgig. (Fiz-gig) n. A frivolous and fun-loving female. If also an Evite (q.v.), this is certainly the one to invite.

Evite. (Ee-viyt) n. A female wearing few clothes. More or less any female in more or less any UK town centre after eleven o'clock at night - even, for God's sake, when it's snowing.

Frim. (Frim) a. Plump and juicy. Things really don't get much better than when a flirtigig (q.v.) is frim, unless she's an Evite (q.v.) as well.

Fedity. (Fe-di-tee) a. Loathsome practise. There being none greater than the addition of lemonade to single malt.

Elucubration. (Ee-loo-kyoo-brae-sh'n) n. A literary work resulting from great mental effort. Not necessarily, though, a great literary work.

Washproof

It's said that the tiger's stripes can't be washed out, and accordingly I behaved in a very predictive way while in Edinburgh. Regarding shopping at least. It was probably on the first day of city wandering I kept telling Hannah for every thing she suggested that it was too heavy to bring back to Norway. Traveling with Ryanair means you have 15 kgs of luggage. Not much. You do have a 10 kg hand baggage allowance though, but actually carry that much isn't really tempting. And besides, none of it can be liquid...

So, no shopping on Friday, and Saturday was Steiner school Christmas market,  as mentioned before. And as they have pretty much the same stuff both here and there, I really couldn't be bothered by buying homemade marmalade or hand dyed woolen toys. Until I passed the table with - stones. Yes, you got it right. And I bought 4 of them. Not that big, but do you see the madness here? I bought stones!

On Monday I really showed my true colors as we ventured into the bookstore... I got books for both me and the kids. Why surprise them by giving them something else? One I bought for myself was this marvelous Dr Johnson's Reliquary of Rediscovered Words.  Another Dr says on the front page of this book: "Some words richly deserve to disappear from a language. Dr Johnson seems to know instinctively which they are." Awesome, right? I simply love dictionaries and reference books, call me nut if you want to. But they can be so utterly entertaining! Like this:

"Absquatulate. (Ab-skwoo-tyoo-laet) vi. To make a hurried departure, with a usually unsuccessful attempt at doing it secretly. The wholly predictable outcome, after years of misery for all concerned, of any American military invasion of another country." [the original explanation is in italic]

Dressed For The Occasion - Or Just Lazy?

Just in for a pit stop at my mom's, between a week in Edinburgh and my return to Norway. It has been quite an adventurous time these last few weeks, and I'll let you in on some of the action. I think the last post left off right after that amazing weekend I spent with my friend here in Gothenburg. Something about a Robbie Williams song...

This was on Monday. I went home to my mother for re-packing the suitcase, and a slight altering of my mental state. Sure, I was visiting another friend, but there are friends and there are friends. Wednesday morning I was on my way, via train to Oslo and later Ryanair to Scotland, and arrived safely at Hannah's place in the evening. We had an early night; after all it was a regular workday for the professor (Hannah's man), who was a tad overworked to put it mildly, since he's recently been appointed Head of School in addition to his real work. You see, being Head of School isn't necessarily that fancy, it could simply mean that any frustrations and conflicts around the department are directed your way and you end up the main target.

Thursday we did nothing much really, except from being two friends who hadn't seen each other for a long time. She served homemade scones, jam and tea in the conservatory, and it was so peaceful listening to the rain drumming on the glass roof. They live in a rather quiet area, with Liberton Golf Course as next neighbour. (Considering that there are nearly 30 golf courses in Edinburgh it's actually hard to avoid being close to one.) So we stayed in and talked about this and that. Well, poor Hannah had to venture out for half an hour, as her little rascal kitten was due for his first shot.

But you know me, can't sit still for long, and Friday we were out of the house before noon. First a stop at the The Elephant House, which I at first was reluctant to visit, as Hannah advertised it as the place where J.K. Rowling sat while writing Harry Potter. I didn't want to offend my friend, and as she told me it actually was a nice place I surrended. She was right, I loved the place. And although they're milking it a bit nowadays, I also immediately understood that Potter mum wasn't the first one sitting there being creative. My guess is that she just found that atmosphere rather inspiring, as Ian Rankin and others did before her. Did you know that there's a very high density of writers in Edinburgh? And that the city is the first of three appointed by UNESCO as a "City of Literature"? No wonder I like the place.

Next stop was Edinburgh College of Art where a friend of Hannah's is doing her masters in sculpture. They'd been to the Orkney's and in conjunction with that had a small exhibition opening that day. Who am I to judge, but I must say a lot of it was rather naive and unfinished. Liked the free wine and canapés though. No, that wasn't fair. I kept saying to Hannah that my definition of art is when I don't get the feeling I could have done it myself, and there sure were a few pieces that I surely couldn't have accomplished. After that it was time to go home and fix supper for all of us, and I thought it was a good idea to contribute. So when the hosts relaxed in the lounge I stirred the pot with my "famous" risotto.

Up early Saturday and off to the young daughter's ballet. Well, she did the dancing while Hannah and me had "full Scottish breakfast" at Vincent Cafe. The ballerina joined us after the lesson and the three of us headed to the Rudolf Steiner School Christmas Market. Which was quite a funny thing, since I was actually supposed to be doing my part back home in Norway, in my own daughter's school. She had to double shifts at the stalls while her mother was enjoying a much more liberal attitude to the concept of Christmas markets. In Norway it would have been an absolute NO to serving alcohol, but in Edinburgh we could get instant relief from that nasty wind and chilly rain by a cup of mulled wine for only £2. Since it was for a good cause I selflessly sacrificed myself and had another. Maybe a third too, can't rrmemmberr.. .,. .,..

I was also lucky enough to be in Edinburgh while the Edinburgh Art Fair 2009 was on, and that's where we took the bus after the Christmas Market. I don't think I've seen so much art displayed at once, and it was simply too much to digest in one sitting (or walking rather). My feet were sore, and when the professor joined us at the venue I sneaked off to the bar for some alone time. Sat there for half an hour, reviewing some of the art in my head. Funny what you end up recalling after a massive overload like that! One artist that really caught my eye, and who I even would like to have on my wall, is Cyril Croucher. Sure, there must have been painters that were more skilled, painting like Rembrandt, but I always seem to fall for these distorted perspectives.

The contrast couldn't have been bigger, 'cause next assignment was grocery shopping, and we did that at ASDA. Huge store, got everything, cheap - and open 24/7. Do I need to say more?

I skip Sunday here, and jump straight into the following week. Bus again to the city center. (Did I mention the excellent bus services they have there? For £3 you get a day-ticket, and for that you can travel as much as you like for a whole day. Obviously.) First a quick tour around Harvey Nichols, a store where I felt oddly foreign. Not from being Scandinavian, but being from another world. Don't think I'll ever would like to spend thousands and thousands (and were talking pounds here!) on dresses and coats from YsL, Gucci and Stella McCartney. Hannah on the other hand knows exactly where to spend her fortune as soon as she sells £5,000 worths of her own work. That's the beauty of friendship, you don't have to be copies of each other, liking the same things all the time. Fascinating how different we look at some things, while being in total understanding regarding other stuff.

From HN we walked to a favorite place of mine - a bookstore. And to make it better this Waterstones  had a Starbucks! It all came to perfection as we sat down by the window and I could see the castle. Could I ask for more? (I guess I could, but not here, not now...) Again I was thinking about the writers of Edinburgh, and if you're writing you're most likely reading too. For research, inspiration and such, and no doubt Rowling had walked these stairs as well. Hannah pointed it out to me, and don't you agree? Could this be anything else than the "Trick Stairs og Hogwarts"? I almost got lost myself...

I've been going on and on here, and if you haven't fallen asleep yet, I'm impressed. Maybe you're still waiting for juicier stuff? Enough with the tea-parties! Sorry to disappoint you, but this wasn't that kind of adventure, and Tuesday turned out pretty much the same with more shops, and a wonderful walk through The National Gallery of Scotland. Had coffee there too.

This post has taken me most of the day. Brakes of course, for coffee, dinner, coffee again, and some laundry in between. All through this I've been dressed in appropriate attire for the occasion, sporting my new lush, black velvet dressing gown and satin PJ's! Almost feel like a writer, ha, ha, I even have a glass of wine next to me.

Thank you for staying with me, but this is what comes after being absent for nearly two week, while actually doing something. All good, except a thing or two, but they are not meant for the "public". Need more private space to reveal my heart there. But I do need it, so we'll talk elsewhere, sweethearts. :-)

PS. And I didn't drink that much whisky either, neither Caol Ila nor any other. Guess there will be time for that sooner or later.

Batteries Recharged

You'd think I was going away for a much longer stay then a weekend, if you'd caught a glimpse of me and my suitcase last Friday, and I almost shouted Siempre Lista! as I entered the hotel lobby. What I did forget though was the chargers for my phones. At the time I saw it as a sign that keeping connected to the outside world shouldn't be main priority this weekend, so I simply turned them both off. Sunday afternoon between sightseeing and dinner I turned them on just to see if anyone had been trying to reach me. 4 messages - "You said you at least would keep the phone on.", "You have to answer NOW!" and two Voicemail. There was a smaller catastrophe going on at home, as my daughter had been without electricity for the whole day!

"Home" in this case is Bergen, and even if I hadn't been spending the weekend at a hotel I'd still be 800 km away from her! Should be someone closer to her that really could help her out, and there is, but her first thought was to call me. I must say that warms my heart.

I'm back now at my mom's, and feel fine. All batteries are fully recharged, mine as well. The suitcase was also refilled before departure, and with me I have whisky, wine, Christmas gifts and fond memories.

And now I should play a certain Robbie Williams-song...

Parking Lot Ponderings

My mother and I ventured to IKEA today, and an interesting thing happened at the carpark. Lots of people, and lots of cars, as always, but I found a nice parking spot not too far from the entrance. I drove past the spot, and turned to the right in order to reverse back into it. This is the way I usually park, unless there are too many cars coming from behind. You see, somehow people never seem to expect you to park that way and they keep coming too close. Anyway, as I started the maneuver I noticed this older man watching me, and I knew he was actually curious to see how I'd manage. I did fine (what else?), and we left the car and headed towards the store. But this man approached me as we passed, and said something like: "I'm so impressed! I've never seen a woman do a reverse parking so perfectly before. All in one go."


Isn't it funny? He'd never say something like that to man, in fact he wouldn't even have stopped to check the action out. Men are supposed to handle things like reverse parking and simple household plumbing, but there's nothing genetically supporting that idea. I wonder though, does it make me more or less of a woman when I can fix these things myself? I know the answer, but it has taken me a while. Actually, for a long time I thought I didn't fit into the label "woman". I too (of course) was influenced by the traditional gender models, and knew I was too much of a "techie" to be truly feminine. But as I was sure I wasn't a man either, I kind of felt like nothing. Strange thought really, and a long gone one now as well. But this woman remembers when she felt like "nothing".

When all this happened at the carpark I immediately saw the blogpost, thinking of how we discussed reverse parking before, me and a friend. For most people it's about better view and safer departure from the spot itself, but my friend learned while spending time in "danger zones" it was the only way to park - you needed to be able to get out as quick as hell if things were getting complicated. Perhaps not the worst of approaches; it's good to know there's a way out.

Daily Dos(z)e Of Knowledge

Today I'm going to the University here to listen to an open lecture about the most recent research regarding Stonehenge - The Stonehenge Riverside Project. Very interesting indeed, just too bad I don't have company. Might be something for you, Toril? Or maybe you'll join me in December for "a lecture with a title that is rediculously long, and for which you also need to be somewhat sober to read out loud..."

Sweetheart

Back in Sweden again, but this time it's more relaxed. My mother is doing much better now, and we can focus on nicer things. Like this weekend it was the annual crafts fair, which my mother have been participating in for a number of years. Lots of people and a lots of nice things on display and for sale. I bought a heart for myself. Good to know you can buy one when needed. Maybe I should give it away?

Otherwise I'm so excited I can hardly sit still! In two weeks time I'm getting a very special guest here, and this is actually a first for me. The very first time, since I moved away from here 23 years ago, that someone is visiting me on home ground. So special... There are innumerable places to go to, and even more things to do, but I don't want to make a plan or schedule. I think we'll just make them up as we go along. No stress, just quality time, for me and my VSOP(-e).

Then only a couple of days after that I'm going to Scotland as I mentioned the other day. Well, I said I wanted to go visiting Hannah in Edinburgh, but it wasn't sure. Now it is though, and I so look forward to it. Lots of things to be happy about, right? And don't I deserve it...

A misst ye sae muckle!

That's what I'm going to say when I meet my dear Hannah again. I have definitely missed her, and it has been my intention all the time to go visiting her in her new home in Scotland. With a little bit of luck I might just do that in a near future! Imagine that, drinking pure single malt "on site", Christmas shopping on Princes Street and long chats with my friend by the fire. Auch aye!

Create Post

That's what it says on my Blogger dashboard: create post. How I wish I could do that, simply press a button and be rewarded with an instant and ready-made post. You see, there's no shortage of stories to tell, I just don't know how to. I have funny stories, I have sad stories. There are some which might be better off left untold, and then there's one I have to tell. And that one sort of clogs up the rest. Like a congested chest inhibiting you from breathing properly; the only thing you can do is wheeze. So until I find some relief you'll have to put up with my rattling coughs and questionable discharge.

It's funny though how it all seems to go hand in hand. My laptop is kinda sluggish too, and ever so often my browser hangs while telling me it's not answering. "Thanks for the information, stupid! Think I noticed! #¤$%*!@" (How lucky our computers aren't talking back while we're abusing them...) But there are remedies to fix the machine - I have Ad-Aware and Wise Cleaner installed, and once they've been doing their work I reckon we're up to speed again.

At least the computer might be, I think I need an hour of healing - the human equivalent to registry cleaning and malware removal.

Need To Get Out

Been sitting here all day, like a limp doll, uncapable of mobilizing enough energy to do just anything. My head is a mess. Well, I wrote a mail, but I don't think that counts. Write I can do in my sleep. (Which I often do, judging the result.)

There's so much I need to do, so much I need to say. But first I need to get out...

Heat Source

Came home from Sweden yesterday morning, and was a little anxious about what was going to meet me. Last time I went away and left my 16-year old for 3 weeks, the flat looked bombed when I got back. Now I'd been away for twice as long and dreaded the worst. But deep down I knew it would be different, and I was right. She'd done a fantastic job, and I was so happy to see her again.  But although the flat was tidy and clean, it was ice cold...

I've got a friend who's a true savior; whenever I'm in some kind of need he'll be on my doorstep faster than you can say emergency call. Yesterday was no exception and in the afternoon he came over with the trunk of his car loaded with wood for my oven. So thanks to him I'm nice and warm again. And when there's no wood I can always drink gin. Which I did last evening anyway, just 'cause I felt like it. If you then add the sizzling chat later last night, it sums up to "triple hot".

Tonight there's a fire again, but no gin, nor any nightly conversations. Just me and the burning flames.

Only Two Weeks...

Yummylicious

I just love lemon curd, and for the Autumn Fair at the neighbor's farm I made one batch of the traditional type, and another flavored with lime and passion fruit. Absolutely divine, if I must say so myself... ;) Here's the only jar left; looks nice, doesn't it?

Rock Chick

Is that what you would call me? No, maybe not. But you should never judge a book by its cover, right? Not that I necessarily would liked to be called Rock Chick. Just that I'm these days are tuning in to my new favorite channel as soon as I'm alone in the car - Bandit Rock - and turn the volume up real high. In my teenage years I used to listen quite a lot to heavy stuff, like Motörhead, AC/DC and Krokus. Eventually I grew out of it though; I think hard rock appeals mostly to younger people due to its intensity and energy, something we old folks can't follow. Joking aside, my current mood goes perfectly together with heavier rhythms like the ones from Dead by April (a band from my home town, Gothenburg), and I can feel the beat running through my whole body when they play the song "Losing You". Whenever it's on I get a little carried away...

Tiny Tins

I just love this retro humour, and today I bought 2 keepsake tins with peppermints. The first one here I think I'll give to Toril, and the other has no name tag on yet. Unless you call it...

Flower Power

Please don't tie me up against this one...
Yes, it is the trunk of a very thorny palm tree.

Chitter Chatter

He could hardly sit still, and was talking without interruption for the whole time. While sitting at the table his hands were constantly fiddling with spoons and napkins, and when he joined us at the kitchen counter he asked about everything possible and impossible. "What's that?" he said, trying to stick his nose into the simmering pot, only to seconds later ask my mother what she was doing.

Soon it was time to pick up my daughter from the airport, and I decided my mother needed a break from this continuous blabber. So I brought him with me in the car, and then he talked for another half an hour. He commented on people walking along the road, wondered about the mysteries of the seas, and kept going from one topic to another in an endless stream of words.

Up at the airport I almost lost him while checking the arrival times, but I found him on the other side of the hall, looking at the new Volvo on display.

On the way back, we didn't hear that much from the back seat, I guess he was just trying to understand what me and my daughter were talking about. Lots of strange words, hard to comprehend.

Then who is this person I'm referring to? An obnoxious little 4 year old, with a severe case of letter combination? No, this is my wonderful father. He's 81 now, and he's always been a talker. A smooth one as well, I presume. (I have no problem seeing the type of guy I'm attracted to myself. The kind that always has a way with words, always knows how to talk his way out of trouble.) But as my father now is getting older, his ramblings are getting harder to follow, and we'll have to help him stay on track.

Just so you know, I'm fully aware that I'm very much my father's daughter, and I know whom I got my mouth from. I know I easily stray from the point when I talk, but now I see a little hope. I can change this, I can turn this around. Break the pattern. Maybe even keep my mouth shut from time to time.

Culture Night...

...in Kvarnbyn. (Mill Village)

Woodland adventure

Ventured out again yesterday, and this time I brought the camera. Or I should say phone - with camera. The camera is actually very good on this one, but I've already found it's rather sensitive to movements. No anti-shake as you can see... I was a little "excited" and probably didn't keep my hands still long enough.



But I hope I'm excused, it's no picnic creeping up on creatures like this one from behind...



Wouldn't face him straight on, can you blame me?



Here I got down on my knees. The Cantharellus tubaeformis looked like giant trees from that angle, and I felt like I was a mouse.




I know people start to build in height when the ground gets too crowded, but I was quite surprised to see fungi overcome vertigo and set up camp on higher altitudes... No Photoshop! No optic illusion! This one actually grew straight out of the trunk of the tree, a meter up.



I bet there was a whole magical world down there, in that old sawn-off tree trunk



I have also wondered often "Where do they sleep?" The wild animals that is, like the moose. Now I know; I found his bed in the grass.



And then I turned my head. Realized he'd probably be home soon. Time to go to sleep...

Dead calm

Partners In Crime

What did I say about coffee the other day? Sweet and innocent? Yeah, right. Maybe talking about it; but drinking a fresh and harmless morning Java, can certainly turn out to be a rather intriguing affair.

It wasn't like I planned to compromise my friend yesterday, you know... About a year ago I played with an idea regarding one of my sinister schemes, and while he had no actual plans to take part in the project itself, he contributed with some valuable insights. Lately though I've got the impression that he might be willing to participate after all, and that we had to discuss a little.

Sorry, can't help myself. Reading this you're probably wondering what dark adventures I'm embarking upon now, but I have to disappoint you. Just couldn't resist the temptation to tease a little, and whatever saucy scenes you thought I'd describe - well, that's how dirty your mind are!

Coffee was served with a lemon cake, and the conversation was about dancing, amongst other things just as ordinary. I'd love to take up dancing, you see. Maybe a swing-course, but until now I haven't had anyone to join me. After practicing a few steps and moves in my living-room he's on the verge to sign up with me, experienced dance partner as he actually is.

Old Remedy

Remember an exotic little jar my father kept by his bedside all through my childhood. His friend, the sailor, had brought it home from Asia somewhere. It wasn't much left of the content, but then again, as my father pointed out, a little went a long way. This was a container filled with magic, I thought. Strange writing on the label, and an even stranger smell. When a was a kid I had severe growing pains, but a little rub from the mystery jar with the tiger eased the suffering.

Tonight I suddenly recalled that I actually have a jar of my own. Bought it a while ago in an Asian shop here, simply for nostalgic reasons. But it does work! During the last couple of weeks I have apparently been so tense that my neck and shoulders have curled up completely. Hard and stiff, leaving a headache so bad I almost want to throw up at times. Aren't I the good healer? Totally forgetting myself. What I really could use is a good massage, but in wait for some determined hands to take care of the tension Tiger Balm will help me through the day. And night.

A Matter Of Degree

Last night I had a rather lengthy post almost finished, when I decided to delete it completely. Realized what I was going to tell you was old news, I just didn't want to see it actually might be true.

You see, I read this funny "What he says/What he means"-thing. Like I really didn't know that he's just not that interested when he blames his absence on too much work and other commitments? Or that he's probably not gonna call even if he said he would... So, me writing about how I felt struck by that piece seemed a little superfluous.

OK, let's move on, let's talk about something totally different. Like coffee. Always a safe topic; innocent and sweet. On the other hand, coffee can be both dark and seductive. This time it's a little of both, 'cause that's the way the beans came out when I roasted them myself. Yep, home-roasted coffee. Delicious, if you wanna know. Too bad I didn't buy that much of the raw, green beans. But there's more in the shop when I go back to Sweden next week. There I can also get some help from my father to develop and build some proper roasting equipment. Already have an idea for a hand-cranked drum-thingie to place on the gas-top. Will probably be a lot easier to control the outcome that way. And isn't that what we always aim for?

Never Thought I Would...

...dream about cars again. Thought I finally had settled for not being impressed by shiny objects. But that could have been just how my mind works when income (or lack of...) isn't compatible with fulfilling any expensive dreams. So I pretended to not care about fancy cars.

But I'm still sticking to my belief that I wouldn't go for something too trendy, I mean everybody who can afford it here, drives an Audi or BMW. (No offence, those are definitely nice cars too, but you know how I really care for that extra special something. Accordingly, if you are extraordinary, why shouldn't your car match you? One of a kind...) So it wasn't until I came across this one I realized I still can get a kick out of luxury:

Dodge Charger! Personally I like the sleeker, elegant models. And the "Dark Titanium Metallic" color is very sofisticated, don't you agree?



But as you see, it has to be something special...

A Friend In Need Is A Friend Indeed...

I'm starting to see the end of it now. Just a few things left in the hallway, and the rest of the cleaning to do. Even the boxes in the cellar are sorted out, and I managed to get rid of four large bags! Two with rubbish, and two with assorted fabrics which I'll donate to the school. The main part of this moving business I've taken care of myself, but at one point I didn't think I'd make it through. Smaller things and boxes can be moved with a regular car, but what about larger furniture? I cried on the phone, and the next day the most dependable person I know was on my doorstep with his car and an open cargo trailer. Later that afternoon I felt so much better, and it's good to know that some people will always be there for you. Just needed to cry out a little! Or put it this way: I needed to ask for help. Doesn't come easy, but I'm getting better at it.

Dead Beat

I've been carrying bags and boxes, beds and furniture for a week now, and I'm still not done. Starting to see the end of it though, at least the emptying part. When the old flat is ready to hand over I'll still have the unpacking in the new one to do... Well, for tonight I couldn't care less, and right now I'm just enjoying a quiet night in front of the TV.

On one of the channels I caught a glimpse of an Elvis Costello show where Lou Reed was a guest. There they performed "Perfect Day" together. Long time since I had one myself, but the song is still beautiful, and this version I think was perfect too.



I try to do a little sorting out as well, now as I'm moving. It's a really good feeling to get rid of old crap, but it takes quite a long time checking everything. Especially when some findings lead to writing lengthy blogposts like this one. In one drawer I found a print-out of an email I sent my cousin back in 2001. Still funny so I'm sharing it with you. Consider how old it is you might have read it before.

When I was 14, I hoped that one day I would have a boyfriend.

When I was 16 I got a boyfriend, but there was no passion. So I decided I needed a passionate guy with a zest for life.

In college I dated a passionate guy, but he was too emotional. Everything was an emergency; he was a drama queen, cried all the time and threatened suicide. So I decided I needed a boy with stability.

When I was 25 I found a very stable guy but he was boring. He was totally predictable and never got excited about anything. Life became so dull that I decided I needed a boy with some excitement.

When I was 28 I found an exciting boy, but I couldn't keep up with him.He rushed from one party to another, never settling on anything. He did mad impetuous things and flirted with everyone he met. He made me miserable as often as happy. He was great fun initially and very energetic, but directionless. So I decided to find a boy with some ambition.

When I turned 31, I found a smart ambitious boy with his feet planted firmly on the ground so I moved in with him. He was so ambitious that he dumped me and took everything I owned.

I am older now and am looking for a guy with a very big dick.

Well Deserved Break

I think I made Toril proud today. She's been a little annoyed I guess, with my seemingly endless patience with people who screw me around, but today I finally said "Well, screw them!"

We met this afternoon at Dr. Livingstones for a bite and a glass of dry white. Got a perfect table, right behind a low partition wall with some flowerpots on top which provided a nice shade. The weather is absolutely beautiful these days, and thinking I'd be spending all of them locked inside packing would be a crime. Nice break, and tomorrow's another day...

Old Pics

As I picked up my son yesterday to drive him to the airport, I got a quick look inside the apartment he shares with three other young sailors. Stuck to ceiling was a picture of a little boy dressed in his best clothes. Very cute, but a funny spot to place a picture in I thought. Thomas explained that the idea was that they all get a corner each, but currently only Bruno was represented. So I went home to dig in my box containing all pictures from 25 years back...

It soon became evident that finding a picture of my son wouldn't be that easy. His sisters were present in almost every batch, but this little rascal were no where to be found. Except from a blurry one here, and a cropped one there. I guess he couldn't stay still long enough to be caught by the camera. Of course there were a few, but then mostly together with his sisters. The ones I found I'll give him next weekend when he's home again.

But searching through this box also meant I had to look a little too close on my previous life. Family life, holidays, different locations. Not saying I want it back, and besides - the kids are grown up regardless of my marital state. But it's weird to look at someone you've been so close to for so long and thinking it's almost a stranger. I can say a lot of things about my ex, but his looks has always been quite OK. Then I'm not counting that unfortunate period he wanted to sport facial hair. Not his wisest decisions, and I was strongly against it from the beginning. You see, not all men can carry off a mustache... I scanned the picture I found today, and I'll send it to my son to serve as a warning: don't even think about it! (He looks quite a bit as his father, you see...)

There was also some real old photos, like one of me, aged 4. I got the question the other day if I had any pictures of myself on the blog. No, I don't, but this one is rather cute and innocent:

Itinerant Trainee

Can you guess what I've done 17 times, within the last 23 years?

Once Bitten Twice Shy?

You know I have a thing for nasty creatures, and now it's time to talk about spiders. They used to freak me out totally. As a kid, a perfectly harmless spider would make me go ballistic, and mum or dad had to rescue me. This was in Sweden too, you know, where there are no dangerous spiders! I managed to get the fear under control as I grew older, but it wasn't until we moved to Australia that I finally took charge of it. And while the best remedy for fear is knowledge, within the first week Down Under I bought a copy of Bert Brunet's Spiderwatch. Didn't take me long to recognize which spiders to look out for, and why.

I haven't lived places inhabited by poisonous spiders for a long time now, but what I learned still sticks. First - most spider bites are the result of defensive behavior. So for example; the Redback spider (from the widow family of spiders) is a quite placid little thing and won't bite until she's absolutely pushed into a corner. Furthermore, you won't probably die from it either. Although her venom is one of the most toxic in the world, it's not that quick. As long as you get your antidote within 48 hours you'll be fine. You'll be real sick and in much pain, that's for sure, but you'll live.

Then there's the vicious White-tail spider. When I first moved Down Under, and read up on the dangers, I found out that although the bite from a White-tail won't kill you, the bite may result in a necrotic wound that would never heal. I think this was the one I dreaded the most. Feared that first sharp pain, and then weeks later developing an ulcerous wound, which would get worse and worse, until the point where the only solution would be an amputation! Due to the White-tail wandering habits he was prone to meet up on your doorstep anytime, while a Redback or any other web-weaving spider didn't stray that much. They much prefer the secure comfort of their homes.

Now as I'm writing this piece it seems my assumptions were wrong. To my defense I must say that I merely shared the view with so many others back than, and this was 10 years ago. Since than, and probably because of all the unverified cases, a scientific study has been made investigating "the circumstances and clinical effects of bites by white-tail spiders". In the Medical Journal of Australia one can read that "White-tail spider bites are very unlikely to cause necrotic ulcers, and other diagnoses must be sought". I made the emphasis here myself, 'cause while I at first was a little disappointed that this report seemed to upset my intentions of a valid metaphor, it might just work anyway. You see, I'm hurt more than I care to admit, and the wound is getting more infected everyday. But maybe it wasn't what he said after all? Maybe I should seek deeper? It might be the result of some underlying, and unresolved issues within myself?

Nah, I stick with the spider story for now. I'm tired of searching for all the answers inside. So, in line with this; there's another spider that actually seem to be able to inflict some serious damage. I introduce - the Brown recluse...

Tears In Heaven

Life is a miracle, each and every time it happens. Any form, any shape. Some lives are tragically enough shorter than they should be, and today I attended the funeral ceremony for little Charley. Nothing can take the pain away, but a day like like this can still turn out to be memory worth treasuring. Even for the parents, and closest family.

The church was almost filled, and before the ceremony started Charley's favorite songs were played on the speaker system. Many from Astrid Lindgren's books, like Pippi and Emil. A little white coffin is a really disturbing sight, here surrounded by enormous amounts of flower arrangement. I'll shorten this; no need for lengthy details, you'll get the point anyway. When my cousin sings "Tears In Heaven", real tears were flowing freely, and when the parents and aunts at the end carries their child to her final rest, I believe every one shared the same feeling - This is so wrong! No parent should have to do this!

In this spirit there has been set up a fund in the memory of this little girl. The money goes to cancer research, and the initial goal was to raise a 100 000 Sek before the fund's closing day in a years time. This morning the amount was larger than that, and it keeps rising. You can follow the fund here, and also make donations if you want to.

Of course nothing will bring her back, but knowing that so many of family, friends, neighbors and co-workers care means tremendously much. I mean, I can sort of forget about this tomorrow. The parents can't though, they have to wake up every morning having one child less. But this day, with that beautiful ceremony in the church, and all friends and family who joined later at their house for a little something to eat and drink showed them that they won't have to go through this on their own. People aren't afraid to grieve with them. We are allowed to laugh, even on a day like this. Maybe you wouldn't think so, but it's actually OK. When the mother can smile the day her daughter is buried, it doesn't mean she's not sad enough. Of course she is! But life is still there, and it has to continue. Charley's little brother is only a year old, and he deserves to grow up with a living memory of his sister, but not with broken parents. There were words spoken in church today that I think sums it all up, and which are essential to remember:

"Right now three things remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love."

Love and light...

A Cruel World

I'd like to pick up on a comment I made here the other day:

For new beginnings to take place there has to be endings. But some of them seem so utterly meaningless. And now I'm going to another funeral...

When a 80 year old man dies from lung cancer (or anything else) it's sad, but in our hearts we now that not all people even get 4/5 of a century to walk on earth. We know that life's gonna end one day, and hopefully the sadness and mourning can be dealt with in such a way that the rest of the life can go on. But why does a little girl, only 3 years old, have to die? I read that the survival rate for Acute lymphocytic leukemia (ALL) is 91.2 percent for children under 5, but tragically enough my cousins daughter belonged to that other small percentage. There's no consolation to offer; nothing I can do or say that will make their days any easier.

In times like these, it's good to know that we have a strong family. A family which is not afraid of feelings. (Well, most of us aren't anyway.) A family that cares. But still, this won't be easy. I really need to pull myself together here, there are people who need it now. They need to get through this somehow, and if I can help in any way I will.

Dancing Again

A friend of mine, my fellow graduate from the Angelos Method, sent me a SMS late Saturday night. We'd talked about going out for drinking and dancing, but I didn't think it would happen this weekend. Well, it did. 10.30 PM I ran for the bus,and arrived at her house 45 minutes later where she and another lady friend of hers were drinking beer outside. I was a little behind, but I approached the task fearlessly, and an hour later we were all ready to hit town.

We ended up at the night club Rick's, and tried to find a dance floor which wasn't too crowded. We did, but no wonder the floor was empty - the music was crap! Then after another beer we weren't that choosy and thought we'd make up a stir on our own, which we to some extent managed. "Suddenly" the lights went on and everyone was asked to finish their drinks and head out. We had actually danced ourselves through to closing time.

The night was warm, and outside people were crowding, some giving a final desperate try to hook up for the night. While my friend was talking to some guy, I sort of just stood there, probably looking a bit lost. Then this man asked how I was doing. Fine, I said, I'm just looking out for my friend over there. As I didn't have anything else to do, I started to chat with him. He was nothing but sober, I can still recognize a drunken, slurry voice when I hear one. I could hear he wasn't from town, so I just asked him if he was a visitor or lived here. I didn't have a plan with my question, but he might have thought so, 'cause during the course of our conversation I learned that he in fact used to live here (for 18 years or something), when he was in the Navy, and that he also was going to join them again, stayed in a hotel for the night, hadn't had any sex for 3 or 4 months and that he considered bringing me with him, up to the hotel room!

Was that a good offer or an insult? The idea that he thought it was merely up to him whether I'd be going to bed with him or not, was in fact a little offputting. Sure, I like a man taking command, but maybe not like that. How it ended? Well, I'm not telling... No more telling. At least not for free anymore. You give some, you get some...

Burning The Candle

About half a year ago I got this candle as a gift from a very dear friend of mine. At first sight it looked kind of plain; a straight cylinder shaped blue candle. But when it had been lit for a while I could really see how beautiful it was. The color was just on the outside, and as the white center melted down the edges stayed leaving a semi-transparent wall of wax. The candle looked alive somehow with its flickering light.

I wanted to save the candle for as long as I could, and had it only lit for a short time every morning at breakfast. It became almost a ritual, and those moments filled me with great pleasure. But one day the inevitable happened and the center reached its bottom.

Although I wouldn't give up on this without a fight! Surely, there must be something I could do? I took a tealight out of its metal cover and placed it inside the empty blue shell of wax and - voilà! - the candle had another few hours left to live. For every burnt down tealight I put in another one. I have an endless supply here.

Of course nothing lasts forever, and the other day the wall finally gave in. Becoming too thin it couldn't withstand the heat from my tealights for ever, and as soon it started to melt it all ran out. All that's left now are the stiff residues covering the stones and pebbles I had placed the candle on.

I'm Moving

Weird feeling, but I'm actually moving out of here. Even if it's a rental, it will be a whole lot more like my apartment. There's no time limit, so I won't have that hanging over me. I'm so fed up with these surroundings now, I must admit that. So no more queuing for washing clothes. And guess what? There's a 6 burner gas stove in the kitchen...

A Fantastic Day

While I was walking to the bus the other day, I passed two women chatting in the street. I didn't get the conversation except from one clear sentence; the instance I walked by: "And they're saying it's gonna be fantastic tomorrow!"

They? In this case the magical and almighty weather forecasters I presume. (Another time "they" could be the government or some other powerful institution...) Anyway, that remark made me thinking. Why is it that we always look for something better? Let me describe the day as it was. And also keep in mind the rain, snow and overall crappy weather that has predominated the last six months...

It was no wind, and warm enough to stay outside only wearing a very light jacket. Or even no jacket at all. The sky was just a little bit cloudy, and the sun paid us regular visits. Why wasn't that day considered "fantastic"? Instead of reading the papers, or checking the forecast on TV, and look for that big sun spread all over the map, why not go outside and feel? I believe we are so used to listen to what authorities (of any kind...) are telling us to think that we forget to listen to ourselves. And this obviously goes for more than idle weather chit-chat...

Another One...

...on the same subject, as I wasn't quite finished ranting. Not that one ever could come to any conclusion really, about love. That in itself would actually be kind of sad, I think we need a little mystery and romance. Having said that, I now see that guesswork is not romantic, while being clear about who you are might make you appear even more mysterious and alluring! 'Cause you have to admit - meeting someone who is truly self confident (without cockiness) is so rare they look like conundrums.

One of the things I mentioned yesterday was the see through excuses we make in order to avoid a (frightening) situation. This wasn't the first time I talked about it, but it's getting more and more evident that it's a crucial point. The honesty in communication is so important, and it's like I said in a profile I kept at Match.com, regarding what I looked for in a man: "You have to be honest; not only to me, but to yourself as well." I'll give you have an example, once told by a friend of mine. (Not his personal story, but a friend of his.) Although, this is a very typical scenario, could be any of us.

This couple had been married for a very long time, and the kids were more or less grown up. The marriage had been stable, perhaps not that exciting during the last few years, but he wasn't complaining. The wife on the other hand, one day dropped the bomb and said she wanted a divorce. And here's her reasoning: she said she was sorry that she couldn't give him the intimacy he deserved, and she wanted him to have his freedom to find a woman who could satisfy his needs. The husband didn't agree. In fact, he didn't mind at all that the bedroom wasn't used for anything else but sleeping. He was comfortable with his wife, and regarded her his best friend. He also thought about the whole family that would suffer from a divorce. Well, the wife followed through with her plans and left him.

Now, here's the catch. It didn't take long before everyone realized that she was involved with another man, and that she had been for some time. But instead of being honest, to her self and her husband, she chose to put the responsibility of feelings onto her husband. She hid behind a false pretense of taking care of his interests. Not nice, and I guess when you read this it's ever so easy to blame her, am I right? But look into yourself, how often do you try to take responsibility for other's feelings? You can't, and you shouldn't. You are only responsible for your own feelings! This certainly doesn't mean it's OK to go around tormenting people, saying "I can't help if he feels hurt". And I reckon no sincere person would deliberately act in a manner that he knew would upset someone he cares for. Just don't use it as an excuse! What you probably haven't thought about, is that "the dishonest" will suffer just as much, 'cause every little act of this kind of self deceit will effectively hinder any personal progression.

Feelings. Iffy stuff, right? And remember (all ladies?) - talking about feelings isn't the same as being in contact with them!

Like yesterday, I end this post sort of hanging mid air. I might pick up on it again, or not. We'll see.

The One About Love

Why is it, that it's so god damn difficult to keep a relationship going? Going well, that is.

Been thinking about this for a long time, and I have also touched upon the subject on numerous occasions before. But now it seemed ever so important, and if you feel targeted reading this, you're absolutely right! Although I'm aiming at everyone here. Including myself; I'm no better.

Of course I'm not the only one wondering about these questions, and in the paper this morning I found someone had beat me to it. His angle was a Christian one, preaching Jesus' words - do good without expecting nothing in return. But it's my line of thinking too, even if I don't involve religion. Loving someone isn't worth anything if it has to be on someones terms. Let's look at how we love children and animals... (Or how most of us do, but I'll leave that for now.)

We love our children unconditionally. If they "fail" we excuse them, they being too young to know better. We love them for their funny exclamations at family dinners, we love them for making Sunday breakfast even if the kitchen looks like ground zero. We love them no matter what, and don't expect them to love us back! But we are at the same time responsible for their upbringing, we are the ones who should teach them manners and how to be descent people. Maybe you think that's the difference to the love between two adults in a relationship? We shouldn't try to teach each other, right? Telling what you should or shouldn't do. Stop right there! It's exactly the same thing, just reverse it. The best upbringing you could give your children isn't by telling them the rules, constant admonishing them about the dangers of life. No, just live your own life well, be a role model, and reassure them with your unconditional love. That'll make them ready for life. And they'll probably love you for it.

The thing is that we somehow take the kids for granted, perhaps counting on blood being thicker than water. Maybe not so good, one should never take anyone for granted, but at least it replaces the fear. And here we are, at the most dominating factor ruling our lives. The Fear.

Most of the time we are not aware of the fear. As it could be a paralyzing state of emotion, we are conditioned to repress it and project the feeling onto something (or someone) else. The fear of getting hurt will then be an impediment for possible happiness. This is the time we make up all these more or less see through excuses for not getting involved or committed.

Some people are so afraid that they won't even try to get close to someone. They could die without ever being kissed. Others try, and they try a lot! Jumping from one fling to another at the speed of light, fleeing the stage as soon as the alarm bell sets off. "Whaaah, whaaah, whaaah! Feelings are coming! (Andhowunbelievablysadyou'regonnagetwhenheleavesyou!) Not worth the risk! Get the hell out of here!" Others again might have been in a long relationship, one which they had all the hopes for. Might have been a real long one too. For some reason it ended, resulting in a sharp pain which seemed best not to deal with. Next time something even remotely resembling a relationship arise, the escape route is already planned to follow.

The reasons for being afraid varies, but let's just say "children hurt easily"... Then when they grow up they have most likely forgotten all painful episodes, but learned a whole set of defense mechanisms to keep them protected from ever experiencing that pain again. Like I said, these mechanisms aren't conscious, 'cause no one likes the idea that they're scared. Perhaps men the least, being taught from their childhood to be brave and control their feelings. "Stop crying, boy!"

Now, just to make it clear, I'm no better here. I have merely made some reflections, and perhaps understood a thing or two. But I'm just as scared as you. The very thought of saying "I love you" makes me absolutely terrified. Even if I don't expect anything. No obligations. No catches. Nothing to fear. Imaging how easily I used to express my love when I was married, but if I'm honest I remember now I only said it when I felt safe it would be returned! (Which wasn't very often, I must admit.)

I'm not sure I liked the way this post turned, but it's probably how it should be, so I'm leaving it as it is. Training not to be a ScaredyCat...

Next Step...

...and I want to run! I've reached a point now where I'm sooo fed up with my current living situation that I almost can't wait to start packing. And more importantly - start throwing things away! You'd think there shouldn't be much to get rid off since I just moved here 4 months ago, and back then did quite a good job sorting things out. But then I wasn't in the state of mind I'm in now. I'm almost on the verge of doing a "Hannah"... Maybe not the moving to Scotland part, but getting rid of all the things I never use. (Or if I was stinking rich I could buy a house big enough to have extra rooms for storage.)

Tidying up is also (for me anyway) something not physical, and today I have cleared away dozens of phone numbers and MSN-contacts which I have absolutely no interest in keeping. Feel better already, without all these loose ends and questionable connections.

Approved!

I've got my approval today, and from now I can title myself Angelos therapist. Quite awesome, actually. Whether I earn the respect as such time will tell. Right now I have a pretty good feeling though. (Didn't this morning, but that's another story...)

After the meeting with my course instructor I went for a long overdue hair cut. Exiting the hair dresser's I was presentable enough to take to a restaurant, which my good friend Toril did. First we had a lovely meal at Naboen (Breaded Plaice With Chilli Mayonnaise And Salad), followed by coffee and cake at Molière's. There I also indulged in a most exquisite cognac, one even older than I am - Hardy's Noces D'Or.

But no treat could be nicer than the beautiful words Toril sent me after we parted. Thank you, my dear!

No Way Back

Once you've opened your eyes, there no way you can go blind again. And it can be tough being able to see through the illusions, seeing the pain and sorrow you weren't aware of before. 'Cause knowing also means you want to help, but it's not always you're granted that opportunity. All you can do is quietly standing by, hoping they'll see for them selves eventually. Now this wasn't meant really for any one of you readers specifically, this was more of a general observation. Something we talked about today at the course. But I have seen a lot of sorrow lately, previous unknown to me...

Another lesson learned is that I have total responsibility for getting myself understood. Of course some people are denser than other, and again - some people read you like an open book even if you clam up. But I saw it so clearly now. I had this conversation the other day, and he suggested something which I didn't totally agree with. He also recognized that in my face, which he then pointed out to me. Had it been last year I'd probably felt indignant over being misunderstood, but now I just replied: "It's OK, you didn't get that right, but it's because I haven't been totally straight yet, the 'fault' is mine." I knew he wouldn't understand it all until I really told him how I felt. Me revealing my true feelings is a different matter though, but the point is that I can't expect anyone to guess how I think and feel.

Today at the course we also talked about our future work as healers/therapists. It's no joke. This is what we (I) are going to do for a living. Full time or part time. How I will solve this is a little bit unclear yet, but after talking to my mother I might just invest in another table and keep one ready for clients in Sweden too. If I then keep a third one a little bit further up north I can develop a Scandinavian Triangle as potent as the "Bermuda"...

Which make me think I must have been a gypsy in a previous life. Traveling back and forth, and from place to place seem ever so natural to me. I can easily picture myself dressed in colorful skirts, sitting on the carriage behind the old dapple-grey nag. A dozen of dirty kids running alongside, and my man gently driving the horse on. Back in the cart I keep my crystal ball and Tarot cards. And I see everything. (For a nickel of course.)

What I see now? My pillow. I'm exhausted, and really need a few hours before tomorrow. I might even get "sober" enough to realize my writing tonight was just gibberish. Til then - have a good night.

40+!!!

I've completed the required 40 client sessions, and plus! The Nike strategy proved to be working. From the moment I decided to go through with it, I concentrated as much as I could on "just doing it", tried not to be worked up about how little time I had, or how on earth I should reach out to any clients to start with. Quite difficult to market yourself actually. I'm so glad I had a manager who did a splendid job while I was in Trondheim last week. So much easier for him to tell others how fantastic I am.

Due to my head being elsewhere I made a mistake regarding the last course weekend, which left me only 2 days in Sweden. These have been very well spent so far, and I'm heading back for Bergen tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully I'll find enough peace on the train for some writing, 'cause I do have a message or two I'd like to express in a not too obvious way. Me advertising it perhaps wasn't such a good idea. Antennas out, I guess! Ah well, we'll see. I might change my mind anyway.

Santa Claus is coming to town! :)

(Wo)man's Best Friend

"Two women sat at the coffee house, discussing life's bigger issues. One said: And you know what? I prefer dogs I think, over men. They're far better company to keep around. Actually performed an experiment yesterday, and locked them both out of the house. And when I opened the door this morning - guess who was happy to see me?"

(Shopping) Spree

As mentioned Saturday wouldn't involve any obligations, and accordingly we did just as we pleased the whole day. (Not that much different from the other days, but there were distinctively less mail and job related calls coming in...) Lazy morning, lazy breakfast and then off to town by bus. Stepped off at the Cathedral , where the Mustang Club had a meeting. There must have been at least 50 old and new cars, but all meticulously cleaned and polished. A nice burgundy 67's cabriolet perhaps? Or a newer model painted in a cool blue metallic?

We paid the Cathedral a visit too, which was a first for me. I doubt anyone could enter that building without being touched somehow, and I'm no exception. There are a lot in there to be impressed by, like beautiful stained glass windows and richly ornamented stone sculptures. But as I'm a sucker for church organs, I couldn't help but being blown away - there are 2 of them in that Cathedral!

After the we continued our walk, and went over the The Old Town Bridge. Then strolled down the streets, and next goal was lunch and refreshments. But before that we had some shopping to do. Gadget freaks as we both are we found a shop which could offer just about everything for silly minds like ours. The young girl behind the counter looked more puzzled for every strange question she got. We left the place with a bag filled of fun stuff.

The weather was absolutely beautiful, and a day like that should be spent as much outdoor as possible. Evidently everybody else in Trondheim thought so too, and the restaurants by the river bank were overcrowded. But as we were in the flow, miraculously a few seats became available when a group left the table next to where we were standing with our drinks. We asked the two oldish ladies at the end if we could sit down. We could, and we started to chat with them. The funniest thing happened then. A man and three women approached our table, and these turned out to be friends with my host here. But the surprising thing is that these ladies at the table turned out to be the mother and aunt of one of the new arrivals! What are the odds?

The afternoon went by in the sunshine, with lots of laughs and giggles. There were plenty to talk about around the table, even without the gimmicks and gizmos from the Bag'O'Fun, but they sure did help. Nice to be a grown-up, so you can act like a child again.

Saturday Lunch

We're enjoying the sunshine at the restaurant right by the riverside...