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... ;)

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...

Ogres, Beasts & Trolls

Growing up as an imaginary princess has made me aware of the "necessity" of a prince. The purpose of this fantasy character has (obviously) changed over the years, but in searching for that magical being I've at least discovered some crucial and constant traits that need to be present. But I also wonder if there might be a scientific approach to this problem, since real life is quite far from a fairy tale? Could someone tell me the official frog/prince ratio, if there is one? 10 to 1? 100 to 1? More, most likely. And how's the math regarding the actual assignment of princes? I mean if you're lucky enough to once have encountered a handsome nobleman, and he then rides off into the sunset without you, is that it? A 1 to 1 ratio for princes/princesses, which mean you the next time have to settle for a toad?

And further, doesn't it seem like the princess always has to prove she's the real thing, by sleeping on peas and other unpleasant activities, while the prince just can claim he's a royal under a spell and then the princess willingly kisses him despite being both grim and slimy. No need for hard work or evidence there, right? But I guess that's not the "princes’" faults, it's probably we princesses that should start question the authenticity of these seductive sovereigns without letting them too close. Maybe we should suspect that not all smooth-talkers are princes in disguise. And that not all spells are made to be broken by a princess. Some princes might need to do that work by themselves. Blood, sweat, and tears.

I never post anything without reading it through, several times, to make sure it's somewhat close to what I had in mind, and as I read this I can see how you might interpret this. "Bitter and disillusioned, right?" Now, I didn’t say that, and as I told you the other day that "I’m no real princess, after all" I reckon I don’t need a real prince either. I actually find frogs quite charming, to be honest.

Rooster

An old farmer decided it was time to get a new rooster for his hens. The current rooster was still doing an okay job, but he was getting on in years. And the farmer figured getting a new rooster couldn't hurt anything. So he buys a young cock from the local rooster emporium, and turns him loose in the barnyard.

Well, the old rooster sees the young one strutting around and he gets a little worried. 'So, they're trying to replace me, thinks the old rooster. I've got to do something about this.' He walks up to the new bird and says, "So you're the new stud in town? I bet you really think you're hot stuff, don't you? Well, I'm not ready for the chopping block yet. I'll bet I'm still the better bird. And to prove it, I challenge you to a race around that hen house over there. We'll run around it ten times and whoever finish's first gets to have all the hens for himself."

Well, the young rooster was a proud sort, and he definitely thought he was more than a match for the old guy. "You're on," said the young rooster. "And since I know I'm so great, I'll even give you a head start of half a lap. I'll still win easy," said the young rooster.

So the two roosters go over to the hen house to start the race with all the hens gathering around to watch. The race begins and all the hens start cheering the roosters on. After the first lap, the old rooster is still maintaining his lead. After the second lap, the old guy's lead has slipped a little but he's still hanging in there. Unfortunately the old rooster's lead continues to slip each time around, and by the fifth lap he's just barely in front of the young rooster.

By now the farmer has heard all the commotion. He runs into the house, gets his shotgun, and runs out to the barnyard figuring a fox or something is after his chickens. When he gets there, he sees the two roosters running around the hen house, with the old rooster still slightly in the lead. He immediately takes his shotgun, aims, fires, and blows the young rooster away.

As he walks away slowly, he says to himself . . . "Damn, that's the third gay rooster I've bought this month."

(Image from The American Rag)

It's A Jungle Out There

Once I thought we had almost every Disney movie there was, but boy am I gettin' outdated! There's not much use for old VHS now, is it? So today I ordered one from Play.com that I truly believe is a "Bear Necessity"...

Review:

One of the most popular Disney films ever, The Jungle Book is a song-filled celebration of friendship, fun and adventure set in a lush and colourful world. Inspired by Rudyard Kipling's"Mowgli" stories, Disney's 19th animated masterpiece was the last animated feature that had Walt Disney's personal touch.

The jubilant adventure begins when Mowgli, a little boy raised by wolves, is urged by his friend Bagheera, a wise old panther, to seek safety in the man-village. Feeling very much at home in the jungle, Mowgli resists and runs off. Much to Bagherra's dismay, Mowgli meets a new friend with a happy-go-lucky- philosophy of life- Baloo the bear, a lovable " jungle bum." Together, the three buddies find the journey back to civilization anything but civilized! They encounter a crazy orangutan, the hypnotic and sly snake Kaa and the menacing Shere Khan!

In Space No One Can Hear You Scream

In 1979 I was 13, and not the least bit interested in horror movies. But I was interested in a boy, and when he suggested we'd go see Alien I "happily" followed along. I didn't see much of the movie though; after that first jump in the chair when the "egg" cracked and that crablike creature threw itself at Kane's face, I pretty much buried my head in my boyfriends sweater. Tried a few glimpses now and then, but when that slimy eel-creature chewed his way through Kane's stomach from within, I don't think I saw one bit more. Have a very vague memory of the actual full grown alien, black and shiny, with its hideous extending mouth, but that's it. From back then though. As you might understand I have watched the movie more closely later. I still can't say I like horror movies, but I can appreciate the art behind a film like Alien.

Ridley Scott is a very thorough director and producer, and maybe that's why movies like Blade runner, Thelma & Louise and Gladiator, besides Alien, have so many fans. And in this thoroughness he obviously employs highly qualified professionals at all levels, such as the Swiss artist H. R. Giger for creating the monster.

But how can this almost 30 year old Hollywood movie have anything to do with my temporary trainee position at the Institute of Marine Research where I am now? A lot actually. Browsing through last month's news articles I came across this one. The very source of inspiration for that terrifying Xenomorph. Maybe not so scary though, only 30 mm long...

Handy Work

My brother is constantly providing me with more or less amusing stuff. A lot of it is rather raunchy, and not suitable for public view, but this one is absolutely beautiful.

Falling Head Over Heels

I did. Literally. I bought a new pair of shoes on Tuesday for a special occasion, and soon found out that they were definitely not made for Norwegian icy, slippery roads. But that evening I at least had someone to support me. Yesterday though was a completely different matter, and left on my own I carefully managed around the city, up and down stairs, holding on to anything. Railings and banisters, scaffoldings and lampposts. I succeeded to get almost all the way home, and then halfway up that ridiculously poor walkway with those uneven steps I fell. I fell straight forward holding bags in my hands, and smashed my head against the next step. I really was a sight last night, with a bump on my head the size of a quarter. Today the bump is more evened out and not noticeable where it is, hidden under my hair. I walk a bit forced though, right leg and left thigh are sort of tender and sore.

In a strange way I don't mind getting hurt like this, as long as it's not really serious. It kind of makes me feel alive. On the other hand, right now I don't need bumps and bruising to know I'm living. The blood is pumping through my veins pretty fast as it is...

Nothing To Do?

Maybe you'll get some ideas from this slideshow.

Dreamy Sleepyhead

I'm sitting in one of the computer rooms at the university, almost asleep. No one's here so I'm considering resting my head on the desk and take a quick nap. The university has some serious problems with the ventilation, and I know they're working on it, but clearly this room hasn't got their attention yet. My intentions her today quickly vanished like the dew on the windows, and I let my thoughts drift off with the vapour.

Through the windows I can hear the the worksmen talking, it's probably lunchtime, but the words make no sense, only a murmur. It doesn't matter anyway. When I look out, the only thing I see is the yellow building on the other side of the yard, and a thin stripe of cloudy sky over the roof. A magpie blithefully flutters by, and lands on the edge of the roof, where he so indifferently follows his nature. The once dark sill below him is now stained white after years of visits from this Pica pica and his friends. I then hear a plane, and very soon it's also visible in my frame. I place my mind inside the plane and travel further, imagine myself flying higher into the sky. We ascend above the cloud cover, and I float into a bright insentience.

Without warning I hit the ground. Still a bit drowsy I notice the lecturer is entering the door, and the break is over. The birds outside lift off and take to the sky again.

As If Nothing Ever Happened

Nothing really surprises me anymore, too many odd things have occurred lately for that. And even as you never should say never, I honestly didn't believe we'd ever see our cat again when she disappeared nearly 10 months ago. But due to some strange (but uninteresting) coincidences, this week I located her and brought her home. The same night she returned I found myself watching her in disbelief; all this time had passed, and yet there she was, lying on the sofa, as if nothing ever happened. While she contentedly was licking her fur, I couldn't help but wonder about what she's been doing these months. Who had cuddled her? Where had she slept? Had she missed us? And also, how fast could I loose every recollections of her scratching the doorframes and throw up hairballs on the carpet? Old habits die hard they say, and I found it almost too easy to let her come close and stroke her soft coat. I even think she snuck her way into my bed that first night...

New Arrivals

I mentioned a few days ago that my daughter has spent a lot of time over at the neighbours where the sheep are lambing. That wasn't the whole truth, when we arrived here only a few lambs had already taken their first breath, but after that - nothing has happened really! When the lambs will be born isn't an exact science, all the farmer can do is to count the days from the first day the ram was let into the ewes. Was he a lazy boy, or not?

But this morning, a new set of lamb twins landed on the cold April ground.

Another Late Night Posting

It's late,and I don't have that much to say really, but I do have a funny picture that I got via e-mail. Thanks!

I guess it could mean that it's never too late to stop the ones that are trying to swollow you.