Proper coffee and soft toilet paper. Is that too much to ask for?!?

So...a lot has been happening and I'm still a bit numb and don't seem to find the words, nor energy to post much.

Hubby went to bankruptcy court last week. His firm is no longer. He hasn't gotten a paycheck the last two months. He won't be eligible for unemployment pay until December.  The young partner put in his resignation notice last month, when it dawned on him that he wasn't doing his job and apparently couldn't do it, either. I have no idea what he thought to achieve, but he has so much stuff going on privately, that I think he just had a severe breakdown and freaked. Regardless, the result is what it is.

Hubby. Needs. To. Get. A. Job.

New government, new rules. I'll be losing some of my disablement pay. I haven't had the guts to check just how much I'll be losing. The new government wants to encourage the disabled to miraculously get healed and get jobs by making it nigh impossible to live off disablement pay. Compared to the old rules, where you risked losing all your disablement "privileges" if you worked on the side (You were allowed to work, but could only earn a set amount per year) you are now allowed() to work as much as you like and not lose your disablement status. They will take your money, though...

I'm getting to the point where I can't even.  The most trivial of stuff kills me, these days. Monday morning, when we got home from the farm and discovered there were no toiletpaper in the house and I was stuck on the loo, hubby immediately, with the whole hero-saves-the-day-drumroll, rushed to the store to get some (because he couldn't just go look in the cupboard above the stove for paper tissue, as I asked him to, because he's a MAN - male logic...) he came back with the cheap kind of grayish semi-soft stuff that won't flush no matter what. I just wanted to die. And I couldn't get snappy, because for the first time in HISTORY, the man chose to be mindful of the price of what he bought at the grocery store and was beaming with pride. That wasn't the only way he'd saved the day, he told me, grinning like a madman.

The other thing he had decided to be price-conscious about was coffee. Cheap coffee. It's like you get punished twice. It looks like coffee. It smells like coffee. It tastes like piss. I'd much rather do without dinner, hells, I'll skip a couple of meals, gladly, as long as I have soft toilet paper and proper coffee. I'm either old, or a luxury whore...maybe both
 
I really can't handle having hubby at home all day. His laptop and papers covers all of the kitchen table. The content of his pocketS is covering all of the coffee table in the living room. TV is showing Discovery Channel man-shows all day And night. Volume way high. It makes me batshit crazy.

So I went on audible and bought kitchen porn on sale. J. R. Ward's fallen angels series  It is pretty awful. I made hubby listen to it too.

Hubby: I'm bankrupt, we're broke and you bought kitchen porn?!?
Me: uhum it was on sale
Hubby: You'd buy hell if only it was on sale!
Me: Maybe, or maybe it was a case of bad coffee poisoning
The narrator's sexy voice is describing a scene in the shower where a male character is masturbating in front of female character
Hubby: WTF?!
Me: Wait until I make you do shit like that
Hubby: You'll get proper coffee. I promise!

Cheers

Fridges hate me

I need an exorcist. Or a magic wand. Or some kind of woodo to rid me of my curse. Fridges and or freezers hate my guts. AAARRRGGGHHH!

 Back in May I struggled to de-ice my freezer. I wrote about it in This blog. From then, our Fridge-freezer hasn't worked.

The fridge isn't that old. It wasn't the most expensive, but neither was it among the cheapest. It is supposed to be an automatic anti ice thingie. The salesperson bragged about this fridge, how effective, quiet, maintenance-free, etc it was. Hah! Liar!

 There is no way of turning off the freezer part. There is no defrost button/option. I checked. I plowed through the manual with magnifying glass. I searched the net. No help.

As often is the case with brilliant theories, reality is different. The freezer was so full of ice, there was hardly room for anything else. According to the manual, icing would and could not happen. That was all that was mentioned regarding this.

Since it is impossible to turn off the freezer, only, and because I needed the fridge part of the damned thing, I had to leave the freezer-door open and use bowls of boiling hot water to melt the ice. I mean, I had to do something. The ice was threatening to take over the entire thing. To the point where I worried I couldn't close the door. It took two days to melt the ice, but it got done and I was so happy and proud. Until the next day, when the alarm went off.

I did not use any knives. Let's get that straight. No. Knives. Yes, I do admit that I did do that to ONE of our previous Fridge/freezer and yes, it killed it. I did it only once. I learned my lesson. I swear.   Does hubby believe me? No. He is convinced it's my fault and that I used a knife. He can't hear the incessant beeping of the alarm and doesn't really care.

Obviously the god of fridges has neither forgiven, nor forgotten, because the freezer part refuses to go lower/colder than minus 10 C and the freezer alarm goes off at minus 11C.

Since May I have had to go hit off the alarm at all hours of day and night. I have to keep the magic "frost-matic" (I kid you not, there is such a button) active too. It gets the temps down to minus 13C for about 5 minutes, then suddenly rises to minus 10 or minus 9  and *BEEEEEEEP*
It. Drives. Me. Nuts.

We can't afford a new fridge right now. I do have a huge old fashion freezer in Simen's bedroom, so fortunately no food got ruined. It's taking so much space, that he is pleading with me to get rid of it. I can't do that until I can afford a new fridge/freezer.

Our car will be fixed next Thursday. We'll have to wait and see what the cost will be. If we're lucky, we'll afford a new fridge/freezer too.

I'm still not recovered from the inflammation. Marianne is still in heat. Runar is overworked and we haven't had a proper weekend since...I can't remember.

Right now I just suck at everything.

Strained foot, courtcase, new business

We had a great winter break. I spent some of it up at the farm.

My sisters' cottages are both finished. Whoohoo!

Simen "lost" his cellphone while he was on the school trip to Denmark back in January. Turns out somebody stole it and managed to call international calls for 5000 NOK (836 us dollars) before I got told what had happened and blocked the subscription. I'm going to call the phone comp tomorrow and see if we can avoid paying all of it, but I have to admit, my hopes aren't high...

I went hiking with my friend Marianne and her cocker spaniel; Nori, on Friday. Marianne got so excited that she pulled me off balance and stomped on my foot. I noticed a little pain - I mean Marianne weighs 50+ kg and when much of that weight is concentrated in one big paw kicking off on your foot, you notice it - but it really didn't bother me that much, so we went hiking for an hour.

My friend calls the trail we took "the Puma-trail" It's a good name, because it's straight up along a creek and then straight down a rocky mountain side on the other side of the mountain. It was extra difficult because of all the fallen spruce that had become victims of this year's winter storms.

After I got home, my foot still didn't really bother me much. Not until I made dinner. while I was cooking I felt this sudden pain in the foot and from there it just got worse. Too bad, really, as I had planned to go to Kristiansand ( one of the bigger cities in Norway, except that there aren't really any big cities in Norway, we just like to pretend so) to eat lunch at a proper sushi bar. I've never been to a sushi bar and according to those I know who have been, that means I haven't really eaten sushi.

Ellen promised to buy me some excellent balls of yarn for a summer dress for Frida, at a new "secret" yarn shop she found, as a special strained-foot-treat. Loffs her, we do!




Marianne did her best to kiss it good again, so I forgave her for stomping on me.
















Remember the pesky cottage neighbours up at Vintland, the ones who built their cottage way onto our property? We're meeting them in court this Tuesday. Should be interesting.  We contacted our lawyer before Christmas and he tried to get a meeting with them to settle this outside of court, but that didn't work, so he filed a case for us to make sure we met them in the court that would best suit our case. The legal system in Norway is a lot different than the American one. I can't really explain it. I'll help find links of info for those interested in the comment section.

We had two choises. "Jordskifteretten" - which is basically a court for properties and they mainly deal in maps and don't take much else into consideration. We didn't want this. Instead we're meeting in a court called "Forliksrådet" It's basically the lowest type of court. it's legally binding and official,  but it is pretty informal and there are no jurors, just a judge, the parties and their lawyers. They will however take into consideration that we have a farm and taking out lumber is a source of income and it's the only way to make some money from the farm as it is today. The area that we own, that they have "conquered" is next to a private road that is the only way to an area of the wood with trees fit for lumber industry. The plan from the days my grandfather own the farm, has been to either sell it to a contractor or buy the necessary equipment and do it ourselves. We are not willing to take the risk of somebody's cottage being ruined by leaks, or their garden being ruined from the huge machine needed for this type of work. We have been clear on this and told this to these neighbours even before they started remodelling the old little cottage, when they bought it and we heard of their plans.

From what we've heard from the other neighbours up there, these pesky pissants decided that we just said all this to be difficult and mean and that this is why they didn't need to care about it. They can't for the life of them understand why we have to be so difficult with a little piece of wood(even though it is our property and not theirs) and think that we should just give this whole area to them. For free!

 Need I remind you that these pissants also thought it was their right to fish in all the lakes and hunt in all the woods up there in addition to take out as much firewood they needed for all 3! of the cottages they have bought/built up there...yeah...such lovely people.

The letter from the municipal hall in Lyngdal has already stated that what they have done is illegal and that they have to tear down and remove everything they have built on our property. We should - according to our lawyer win. We'll see. I take nothing for granted at this point. At least our insurance cover most of the expenses. I think there is a set fee we have to cover ourselves, but it won't ruin us - lawyers and court cases are insanely expensive.

Runar is at a meeting today. Two investors have been invited and has accepted to join the firm. Runar and the two other investors will each own 30% and the young partner who couldn't afford to continue owning a business of any kind, will be given 10% as a token of sorts. Runar will be the manager while the young partner will go back to being an employee only (salesman).

We'll be taking up a loan and Runar and the two investors will put in money enough to end all of the financial difficulties they've had. It will enable them to invest in all the equipment needed and they will be able to have a stock. In other words, they'll be able to sell a lot more and a lot faster.

The firm will continue as it is today, but they will be manufactoring a type of sifters(?) for industrial use, basically for big mean mo-fo crushers.  link to their company: KSTEK AS It's all in Norwegian, but there are pictures of what type of machines they're dealing in.

For me it means that Runar is happy and easy-going and we'll be getting a regular paycheck at a set date each month. Whoohoo!

Nostalgic, longing back a 100 years to a simpler time? Hells, no! Not me!

I admit it. I don't think I'll ever become fond of housekeeping and such chores. With me, it's more of a battle. I do however enjoy a tidy and clean house. Up at the farm, it's very old fashion. I have rugs on the wooden floors that my mom has weaved. They look really nice. When they are clean.  I took some of the rugs from the farm house with me, earlier this fall, because they needed to be washed.

 I planned to just hand them over to a cleaner and would gladly have paid for that service. Seems nobody uses the cleaner around here. All 3 cleaners in my region has been closed. WTF? Do people just throw stuff when it's dirty and buy new? I found out that there are still some in a city an hour's drive away and I had hoped to get them cleaned as soon as the car was fixed.

Until Runar left the big rug out in the rain.

Bad thing is that wet rugs get mouldy faster than you can spell m.o.u.l.d. Good thing is that it got me pissed off enough to wrestle the damn thing into the tub to clean it myself, by hand. 

It is too big for my normal average washing machine. It weighed so much I could barely lift it when it was wet. Runar had to come help me.

I just got it up on the line.The damn thing is about 4 meters long and 80 cm wide. I bet it weighs 40-50 kg, at least, when it's dripping wet. I hung it over a broomstick across the tub over night to reduce some of the weight. I had to hang it up on the line length wise, or the line would have broke.

It took me forever and a half. I got one end up easy enough, but before I got to the other end, the first end had fallen down again. Marianne did her best to help, just that she thought the rug was supposed to be on the floor...  At least I was entertainment for the kids in the daycare center across the street. The kids were cheering when I finally got it up and the poorly masked snickerings from the grownups - I HEARD YOU, LADIES!



Marianne got thirsty from all the hard work.







Now, I'll just sit here with tired arms shaking, waiting for the dentist appointment in a couple of hours. Why, oh, WHY did I let her persuade me to go see her twice a year?!? Oh...right, she had such a pretty face and such a glowing smile. I. am. such. a. sucker!

Whee!

HELENE IS COMING HOME!!!

Yeah, I am silly-happy. Tomorrow is the naming-day ceremony and party for my newest niece, Frida. The afternoon and evening will be spent just lazying about and doing girlie-things with Helene. I have an evil secret plan for us girls to conquer the living room and turn it into an all-night movie-night, or marathon series-watching Maybe I'll be able to persuade her to watch FIREFLY (crossing fingers like crazy)

In other news, we're still dealing with the sneaky cottage neighbours up at the farm. I can't decide whether they're just plain stupid, or if they're Bona fide douchebags  trying to bullying their way to total rule of the mountain. We're at war, now, and it just sux. I really, really, rea-a-lly dislike rude, sneaky people disregarding all laws and common decency.

We have tried to come to an agreement. They want everything. period. And they want it for free. It isn't only that they have removed the old boarder markers and built on our land. They also want to do exactly what they want no matter what, like digging down an open septic tank and polluting.

They even felt entitled to do so without permission from the local authorities. They show us papers dating back from 1960s regarding a farm that no longer exist and think they are entitled to all fishing and hunting rights. They claim they are allowed to cut firewood on our land as much as they want. The list goes on and on and it just never ends.


Why do such people even exist? Couldn't we just gather them all up and throw them on a distant planet in another solar-system?


On a different note I've discovered() the Icelandic group that are absolutely fascinating. Love their music and some of their videos.

First I heard of them was this one

Imagine a dark stormy night, wind howling outside and the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Wishing you all a pleasant weekend.

Peace - out!

Did you know pups could get UTI? I didn't either...

Life with Marianne is busy. She's obviously the kind of pup that thrives on getting into trouble. She's managed to escape the fenced garden a few times, already. Thankfully we've been able to catch her before she harmed herself. She is fearless and brave and my kind of gal, but oh boy! she is a handful.

The other day the boys decided to take her with them to the boat. She had already had a first meeting with water when we took them to the lake to let Georg cool off with a bath. We watched her as she got that certain gleam in her eyes when Georg was sitting down in the water close to the shore. Obviously she planned on jumping him from behind in a surprise attack - her favorite thing to do - then got a huge surprise when she noticed that she was submerged in water up to her shoulders. She gave us that look that said: "I blame you for this you asshats!" while hurrying back to shore. We thought this would teach her a lesson about water. We were wrong.

She sat watching ducks from the pier, looking cute enough for Runar to take a picture of her. Then she suddenly jumped. She went under and both Runar and Simen were starting to throw off shoes and clothes to jump in and save her. She came up and started swimming towards the boat and the pier and Simen was able to reach down and grab her.











She looked wet and unhappy. For a minute and a half. And she was back in action. She tried to jump into the boat herself. She almost managed. She was left hanging from her front paws, while kicking wildly with her hind legs to avoid falling into the water again. The boys were able to save her in time. She fell half way off the pier once more, because she thought she could walk on air...




















She crawled up on a shelf and slept the entire boat ride and when they got home she sought comfort cuddling close to Georg.








 Yesterday we noticed that she was acting a bit odd. She kept acting like she wanted to do business, but nothing happened - or so we thought. I followed her around a bit and recognized the signs. The poor little baby had UTI. We called the vet's emergency number and talked to our vet. She informed us that we COULD bring her to the clinic, but that it would cost us 2 500 NOK (422 US Dollars!) just to show up and then the price for checking her would be 3 times the daytime price and then the meds, because she told us that she did have meds for UTI at the clinic - would also be 3 times the ordinary price. She then told us that even though it was uncomfortable for her it was in no way dangerous and that we could just as well wait until ordinary office hours the next day, bring a urine sample and the pup to the clinic then. Seriously, how on earth are these bloodsucking self-important peeps allowed to do this?!? I bet it is like this all over the world. Why do we put up with it?!?

 We called the kennel mom and checked with her and she said the same. To just wait and to use a ladle for the urine sample. That was very good advice, using the ladle. I just stalked her from before she woke up this morning, till she went outside to pee, snuck the ladle between her legs and voila!, Urine sample taken care of.

I woke up Simen to get him to help me hold Marianne in the car - I didn't want pee all over the place and she is still small enough to crawl out of the doggie-prison in the back. I gave the sample to the girl at the front desk and she just looked at me and asked:

"..and what do you expect me to do with that!?!" Pointing an offended well manicured index finger at the jar with the sample.

I was a bit taken aback, but swallowed and answered politely that we had talked with Aud(our vet) on the phone last night and we were told to bring the sample and the dog as soon as the clinic opened this morning as our young pup had UTI. The young bratty girl replied:

"Well, fine, but unless we get 350 NOK first, nothing will be done!"

 I told her that of course I was going to pay the fee and paid her, whereupon she replied:

 " Well, Aud will look at it when she gets here at 10, because she starts late today." 

I asked her why on earth we were told to be here at 8 and to bring the pup with us, if nothing was going to happen until 10, but she just shrugged and I had to leave before strangling her, because there is nothing that gets my temper up like a pouty teenage girl twirling her hair and looking at me like I was dirt under her manicured nails...

Aud just called me, 10:01. I'm off to get the meds. Then I hope to get a nap and cuddle the poor sad patient.

It's raining cats and dogs

Hullo?

Where did summer go?

 It's raining cats and dogs. Gale winds. Temps in lower 60s.

Warm temps. Sun.  Ice cream melting and running down my fingers.

Summer, come back please?

Update-edit: That should be lower 50s, not 60s...

Just one of those days...

You're all familiar with them there days, aren't you? So am I. I handle them pretty well[Read: cussing and swearing, but without actually killing anyone].

They're just part of life. I understand and accept that. But do they have to come in friggin shoals? I mean...Come on!

After a long period with bad arthritis, which lead to a bad bout of psoriasis, which lead to bad skin and  excessive hair loss, I realized I needed to do something about it. Having no extra money, I knew that going to a hair dresser was out of question, so instead I opted for a box do-it-yourself-hair-bleach/dye and a box of that nutri-something powder that is so popular in diets and switched my breakfast - which I don't really ever eat - with a glass of this wonderstuff. I have to admit it has helped. My skin is a lot better and the hair looks thicker and a lot better. Or, so I thought. Until hubby decided to give me some of his great compliments.

Him:  "Well, you no longer look grey and old."
Me: "Why, thank you, dearest."
Him: "Now you just look old and thin-haired"
Me: "Really!?! I feel so lucky to have a husband who gives such uplifting compliments"
Him: Grinning widely "Yes, yes you ARE lucky..."
Me: Thinking to myself that I can't really do anything about my hair so there's no point thinking about that too much and at least I'm not fat.
Him: "...I give great compliments and you know what, it doesn't matter that you're getting fat, I still love you."
Me: "I. Am. Not. Fat."
Him: "meeh, you're not FAT-fat, but you know, your bum is sagging, there's THIGHS[said with emphasis and with hand movements indicating lifting something truly heavy] and when you sit down and lean forward, your stomach sort of bubbles, you know what I mean."
Me: Speechless
Him: "And it doesn't matter one bit, because I still love you, honey and I still want you, know what I mean, nudge-nudge n'all that" [obnoxious hand-, eye-, eyebrow movements]
Me: "You need to stop talking, or you'll be a wife short in no time."
Him: "You should take longer walks with Georg. That will do you a lot of good. I hear it helps with depressions"
Me: "..."

I usually get up and leave at this point, because when he gets on one of his rolls...yeah.

He's loving his new job. He's enjoying himself and the company of old friends and colleagues. He comes home feeling on top of the world and it's all fine, but when he gets too full of himself, he really is a tough case to handle. It's like there is a weird chemical collusion in his brain and there is no room for anyone but himself. I try to overlook most of it, because, hey, I don't want to be the bitter bitch sitting at home unable to work even a half time job, complaining, but when he gets like this...It really is hard to handle.

I'm aware that I'm struggling with depression and that my mind is lying. I'm taking things up in a worse meaning that what they're meant. I'm sensitive and get easily upset. I'm dealing with insomnia, which scrambles my brains and doubles the other stupid stuff. I am aware of this, but helloo! I wish he wouldn't feel compelled to giving me compliments and good advice.

It's like he notices I'm near the brink of breaking down and gets the urge to pick on me, more like the way you get the urge to pick at a scabbing wound. Unconsciously. Maybe he is trying to push me to tell him what really bothers me, because he complains that I don't tell him about my worries/fears/hurts. It's just that when his advice for how to deal with insomnia, is to go to bed earlier, well... His advice for how to handle housework when my arthritis is bad is to start earlier in the morning and work slowly throughout the whole day, so that I don't have time to sit down and think about how much I ache...well. Yeah, I can sort of do better without.

Depression lies. I know. I'm not sure it changes words, but if I am honest, were I to 'arrest' him on his words, he'll probably say something along the lines: "Yes, I did say those things, but it wasn't what I meant..."

Anyone knows someone with a head the size of a chair?

I knitted the hat for my sister in law the other day.  Turns out that the different type of yarn screw up my recipe and I ended up having to knit another one. I'm in the process of felting it. Cross your fingers this one turns out better.



It is something, but it's no hat. My feet fits in it.  I haven't quite figured out what the heck it is, or what I could possibly use it for.

Ideas will be accepted with gratitude.



 





UPDATE:

I finished knitting the second attempt at a hat and it turned out a lot better.

I'm contemplating giving her the epic-fail one as well. She's got a cat and I think perhaps it would be perfect as a cat's bed. Yes. It is that big...

 






Here's a picture of both of them - just to give you a perspective

Notice how the colour is different as well as size? It IS supposed to be the same colour - moss green, but that is what different brand's color-codes are like, I guess.

I can only hope that it is the type of moss-green that my sister in law likes...

Scrambled brains

It's a condition, must be, because I swear I'm suffering from it. There are tons of things cooking inside my head, but it's all scrambled. There are stories, reviews, lists of things to do and today my dentist assistant called me and informed me: "It's that time of year, again, Cara."

Her call woke me up, as I had snuck back to bed after the boys had left to get a couple of extra hours of sleep, because I've been going on 3-4 hours a night for the last week.

My brains is screaming "AAAAHHHHH!" My mouth doesn't actually say a word.

The assistant continues in her oh-so-calm-and-gentle voice "As you probably know, your regular dentist has retired and I've put you up with our new dentist Mrs X".

My brains is still screaming, half an octave higher, perhaps. Weird sounds is coming from my mouth, but no actual words.

The secretary is droning on and my brains is heading out to deep space. While I'm struggling to fully wake up and get control of my brains, it lashes out things like "I don't wanna! I hate you! I don't have time! I HAVE NO MONEY!" 

My mouth starts spewing "I HAve n...!" I clamp my hand over my mouth. Only silence can be heard from the other end of the line now. I'm pretty sure she heard that slap and I go "Uhm...I mean...".

 Internally I'm berating myself furiously "For fuck's sake, Cara, you're 43, get your act together! You whimp!"

I hear the secretary taking a deep breath, getting ready to speak and  I know in my heart that if the secretary starts on her lecture on how procrastination will affect my anxiety and how it will eventually lead to a Cara without teeth, in her oh-so-calm-and-gentle voice, I'll bloody well strangle her through the cellphone connection. And scream profanities the whole time.

 "Fine!" I say, and she lets out her breath again. "Give me an appointment after the 18th." My voice is somewhat strangled, but at least I manage to make sense and I am not spewing profanities. That counts as polite, right?


What a good start of the day.  Now I have scrambled brains with worms. The kind of worms that eat sanity. And that song is playing, with those cackling voices chiming:

...Hee, hee, ha, ha
They're coming to take you away
Ha, ha

Earlier this week, I took my mother to her doctor's appointment. She was at her ...best. She basically blamed my father's stroke on the psycho terrorist who shot and killed all those teenagers at Utøya. She also told the doctor - who was doing her best at recommending they at least arranged for a nurse to come see them twice a week - that they didn't need to move to a nursing home, or any such, because their daughters were good girls who loved to help them with EVERYTHING...

Oh, ye faithful

We're trying to get them to agree to moving into a nursing home. They've decided to agree, changed their minds, changed their minds again. And again. It's driving everybody nuts. I do understand them. It's tough to get old and realize you can't really manage on your own anymore.  I'm a terrible person for saying this, but I'm actually glad we don't have a big house, because if they'd have deemed it big enough, they'd be outside my door with each their suitcase, grinning widely, while telling me how lucky I was that they were now moving in. Like 2 years ago.

...and now I've wasted both your time and mine with brainless ramble. You're quite welcome.

I've uploaded the Easter photos to my computer, but obviously my attempts at making a proper post with pictures and the story of Georg the Hero-dog, failed.

I'm not procrastinating. No, no, no. [in old Norse] I'm doing something else. Completely different.

Going to the vet to get prescriptions for Georg. He's got worms of a different kind, poor boy, but at least it's easily curable. I'm not so sure my insanity is...

Have a GREAT insane weekend! I know I will. Whee!

Dear Spambot programmers and the companies who pay for their services

 Dear Spambot programmers

Learn to write proper English. Under no circumstance should you use Google Translate. It makes you appear like complete nincompoops.

At best the results are hilariously and helplessly funny and not in any ways that are good for you. At worst the results are simply pathetic.









Dear companies who buy the service of spambot

programmers/commercials

Stop it. Just don't buy them. They are doing you a disservice larger than life. It's not only a waste of your money, it is like an anti-commercial in effect.  Just give them the money if you have to, but for the love of dog, don't let them work for you. People who read these spambot translated ads would rather eat a salad with razorblades than buy your products/services. That is, if they are able to understand anything of the ads at all.






Here are a few examples

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What issue? The helpful husband issue?


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Really? Well, you certainly did not hit the nail upon the highest. What side-effects? Can you take a signal?

This was a comment on 2011 You should really work more on variation, my bot friend. Also, that was a whiny summary of a shitty year, there is no nail to be hit.

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If you are going to spam my blog, could you at least use proper English and perhaps a little style? I'll give you an example of what I consider a WIN regarding spam bot nonsense

Todаy, I went to thе bеach with my kіdѕ. ӏ founԁ а sea shеll and gaѵe it to my 4 yeаr olԁ ԁaughter and said "You can hear the ocean if you put this to your ear." She put the shell to her ear and ѕсreamed. Τhere was a hermit crab inside and it pinched her ear. She never wants to go baсk! LoL I knοw thіs is comρletely оff topic but I had to tell someоne!  

This was an ad for a poker site and a comment on Georg has more friends than I This type of spam, I might even allow to remain unedited and undeleted. It's in understandable English, it's funny. It has nothing to do with the topic and it doesn't try to hide it. Kudos!

Culture

There is a debate about culture going on up here these days. Our Prime Minister chose Hadia Tajik of Pakistani descent as Minister of culture. I personally think she'll do as good a job as the previous Ministers of culture, but there are also those who firmly believe the opposite.

The world is so full of hate and disgusting inhumane behaviour these days it's depressing. When did we all so completely conform into this type of negative hateful culture? It is scaring the living daylight out of me. I don't think you can pinpoint one single country or any specific single area of the world, I think i's universal and it isn't healthy for anyone.

Culture is important to most people. Culture is a way of defining who we are. Some people feel very strongly for theirs. Culture is usually a good thing, but it isn't all good.

 The culture of cutting off part of a girl's clitoris and sewing up her vagina is not a positive, or healthy culture. That doesn't mean that the culture of an entire nation is bad, just that this particular one is. Most people around the world agree on this. The culture that nurtures young male athletes into thinking they are so above others they can "do what they like, when they like it" culture is another example of culture gone bad. We've all read about the poor young woman who was drugged and gangraped in Ohio. The culture that enables men to gang up on a woman and abuse her to death, like they did in India is yet another example. The culture that enables others to spread hate and provoke someone of committing suicide because they don't look "the right way", or because they're gay. The list goes on and none of it is good.

A journalist who writes for the tabloid, Nina Witosze, wrote her thoughts around Norwegian culture and about the culture debate going on in an article today. She immigrated from Poland in the 80s and at first had issues with finding any Norwegian culture at all. She spent some years dedicated to finding it out. It resulted in 10 things that frustrated and provoked her. She  then wrote that these provocative things is why Norway is "the best place in the world". 

I don't think Norway is the best place in the world to live, by far. That is just a point of view and also beside the point. I was fascinated by her 10 provoking and annoying straits about Norwegians. I translated her list: 

 

1) A strong, priestly, evangelistic tradition with the idea of goodness on the flag. «I want to die believing that the others are good.» (The Norwegian author)Bjørnson sang. 

2) A disappointingly little romantic view of the world, based on pragmatism and a rock-steady belief on sensibilitiy. 

3) A great trust in the government, quite unbelievable for a skeptic Polak or an Italian.

4) A genuine egalitarian drive which often leads to glorification of unapatizing medeocrity. 

5) An obbsession of telling the truth, annoying for those who come from countries where lying is a way of survival. 

6) An idea that freedom is something that comes from within, not from an external power of an oppressor and protector. 

7) A tradition for «dugnad»(This is a Norwegian word for a thing that is uncommon in all other parts of the world. It means Unpaid voluntary, orchestrated community work. For instance; Norwegians tidy and clean their neighbourhoods every year, for free, local authorities usually provides equipment like trash container and plastic bags,etc)  that came as a shock, because it's not forced and sponanous. 

8) A stubborn search for consesus rather than confrontation. 

9) An «Erotic patriotism of nature» - that I have never before seen. 

10) A strong belief in Norwegian good luck and that Norway is best. 

She's earned a storm of negative, racist and stupid comments for this article and her list. I think it's brilliant. I think she hit it spot on, whether we like it or not. I am guilty of being a mediocre Norwegian with a world view as romantic as a granite rock, who can be brutally honest, trust in my government and a firm believer in good ole common sense, who in addition is spoiled rotten enough to actually believe that freedom comes from within.

Perhaps it is time we all sit down and look into our own cultural set of beliefs and values. What are we teaching our children? What type of men and woman do we want them to grow up to be? How do we talk about those who are a little different around young adults and children? I'm just asking, because hey, this negative culture didn't spawn out of thin nothing. I wish that instead of looking for a scapegoat to blame, we'd stop and think and then ask ourselves; What can I do to stop this trend?  

It's just so depressing. and I know I'm being unrealistically romantic in thinking we can change things to the better, but you have to start somewhere, right? And you have to believe it can get better, or it certainly won't ever get better at all.

Puppy-watching

As mentioned in previous post, we're watching Vera this week. Sweet mercy, the energy level of a healthy pup. Georg is easy like a Sunday morning compared to her, regardless of drooling and a lot of fur to care for and groom.

What?!? I have to let Georg rest after dinner for a whole hour? Booooring!!!

She was as hyper as expected on Tuesday. She's been allowed to do pretty much as she likes. She's never been corrected for her hyper over excitement - result; she pees. Not much but, still... Thankfully she is a very bright and quick-learned pup, so the drain-leakage was easy to take care of. What is a lot harder to fix, is the fact that even though she obeys when you give her a command, she thinks it is only valid for as long as you look at her. The second you turn away, she's off to whatever she was doing before.

 I was up twice that night to take her outside and a couple or 4 of more times just to quiet her down and stop her from pestering Georg. I think I got 2 hours' of sleep. One of them had puked on the floor when we got up in the morning and Vera had found and chewed up on of the cones I'd collected for Saturday's Christmas work shop, otherwise things went well enough.

Georg's comforter is much better than my bed.

Yesterday she tested EVERY friggin' limit and boundaries there are and then some. I had an hour's walk with them and it nearly killed me. She hasn't been taught how to walk in a leash without pulling. Now she does know, but good gravy and sweet potatoes! She pulled enough to trigger the inflammation in my shoulders and sky-rocketed my fever to new heights, before she succumbed. Uunless Thomas and Charlotte keep it up, it won't last. The night went better. I think she was too worn out to do any pranks. She'd been on the sofas as all the pillows and the blankets were on the floor, but that was it.

Today has been all roses and daisies. She's accepted who's pack leader and  where her place in the pack is. Things run much more smoothly. She's calmed down several notches and she's more harmoniously happy instead of all-over-the-place-crazy-happy. Huzzah! We've just been outside playing for an hour and they're both resting peacefully.

I will have a serious talk with Charlotte and Thomas next week, though. Unless they start working on teaching her rules and boundaries now before the baby is due, they'll be in a lot of trouble. She's too big to 'roam free'. She'll be capable of seriously injuring the baby if she is allowed to continue believing she's the Queen of the house =/

Later today I'm heading to my oldest sister's house. All 5 of us will get together baking cookies, making Christmas deco'es and just having girly fun. I'll be spending one night there, I don't know how long the others are staying. Some will come today, some tomorrow. We haven't all been together alone like this for decades. =) Simen will be in charge of the dogs while I'm gone. He's very good with dogs, so I'm not worried. He's got that calm assertiveness that the Dog Whisperer talks about on his shows that comes quite naturally to him. Besides, if things should go all wrong, he'll call me. I'm only 45 minutes away...

Friday I have to attend a funeral. One of my close childhood friends lost her dad this weekend. It's so sad as he was only in his 60s and a wonderful man and dad. It will be heartbreaking. He's leaving behind a wife, 5 daughters and several grand children =(
Have a fab weekend!

Drugs

A friend invited me to one of those home parties last week. I hate all of those, but since I hadn't seen her in almost a year, I thought this was a good opportunity to get to see her and get an update on what was going on in her life. She's had health issues, some of them similar to mine and she's got a son the same age as Simen.

We used to hang out a lot a few years ago when both our sons and we practiced karate. She lived on a mountain farm and Simen loved to stay there during weekends. When I had to quit karate and Simen chose soccer practice above karate practice, we sort of lost contact, because of them living an hour away and the boys belonging to different school areas.

The home party was just as annoyingly boring as they always are, but it was nice getting to meet her and her grown up daughters, that I hadn't seen for a while. They were all doing well. The party was ending and I was getting ready to leave, when she subtlety asked me to stay behind for a bit. It was already late, but I figured there was something she needed to talk to me about, so I waited. What she told me was so shocking and depressing, I am still out of sorts.

Her son got into drugs and dropped out of school. He's been dealing and stealing with some of the worst scum in town. Naturally he owes a lot of money. Naturally they've threatened to kill him and naturally they've called her and threatened to kill him and her other children and grand children - these people are scum without honor as most drug addicts and dealers are - naturally she's given all the money she has and then some.

She knows giving into their threats aren't a good solution and that it won't help her son, but I'm not sure I'd be able to do differently if someone called while torturing my child and yelling that they're about to kill him and all you hear are screams of terror and agony... She's tried the child service, she's tried the doctors, she's tried the police.

Nobody can help her, because he is 17. Even though he is an underaged kid he is old enough that the child service can't  force him to seek treatment unless he does it willingly. He's a fracking drug addict. His addled mind is not capable of seeking help. This, apparently, makes no difference. What is wrong with this country?!?

Doctors can't do anything for the same reasons. It doesn't matter that he is underage. It doesn't matter that they have deemed him dangerously psychotic and in dire need of mental treatment in a closed institution. It doesn't matter that he in his most desperate moments have begged her to have him institutionalized to save him from himself and that she's been guarding him for 3 days straight to avoid him getting more drugs before doctor appointments to do just that. As long as the kid changes his mind and tells the doctors that he doesn't want to be put up for treatment, there is nothing she can do about it. What the fuck is wrong with this country?!?

The police can't do anything until he commits a serious crime and is put away to prison. There are treatment options in prisons. WTF?!?

Her health is worsening at a rapid speed. She's lost 35 kg since last I saw her. She's wasn't a big lady when she was relatively healthy, she's only skin and bone now.

She and her oldest daughter had worked nonstop for two weeks to get her son to agree to another doctor's appointment. They've been monitoring him, making sure he's eaten, making sure he's stayed alive. Chased away drug dealers. They were told that there was a possibility for them to get him forcibly admitted to a psychiatric institution. It was her last hope. They got him to the appointment. They thought, this was it. Finally it'll be over. Alas, he was sent home, the doctor told them that they would only be able to keep him for 48 hours as he wasn't suicidal enough.

I asked Simen about him. He told me that he was completely crazy and drugged out of his mind most days. He hadn't told me, because he knew it would upset me and he knew his mom already knew about it. He had talked to him on the bus the other day and all he had talked about were devils and saving the lambs of Jesus.

I talked to her on the phone after that last doctor's appointment. I transferred her some money for gas and food. I'll visit her today with bags full of groceries. I have no idea how to help her. I can't give her any more money. I can't save her boy. She's so desperate she's guilt tripping everyone around her, demanding they help her save her boy. I'm not sure I'd be any different if I were in her shoes...

I remember him as a bright kid. A somewhat hyper kid with ants in his pants, but incredibly smart and bright. He has ADHD, it may have been an extra trigger for him seeking out drugs, but not necessarily. He started hanging out with some boys who'd been in and out of foster homes. It may have been a trigger, but not necessarily. Sometimes there are clear answers to why kids start taking drugs, but not always.

Drugs are ugly and viscous. They ruin not only the lives of the drug addicts, but everyone around as well. I HATE DRUGS!  

work related parties and dress-codes

If you're like me, the head ache is happening already. Da hubby is in management now, which naturally means he can no longer dress as  what he himself calls "a sledgehammer mechanic". That also means that I can no longer dress as a sledgehammer mechanic's wife. Fine. I get that. I'm representing his job whenever I am attending anything work-related with him.

Today is the annual summerfest at his job. This year it is a BBQ party. It's at his workplace, meaning it is partially outdoors - in the parking lot - and partly indoor - in the goods-terminal. Which more or less is a drafty concrete storage hall.

His orders for how to dress. " Dress nicely, but it will be cold, so remember to dress nice AND warm. Don't be too butch, Eli, you ARE representing tonight. Oh, I like that cardigan, you know, the one with leather patches on the elbow? Oh, and those new boots. Those are cool. But, you have to dress up, like a nice blouse? uhm...can't you just dress warm and bring an extra change in case you stand out completely?"


WTF, man! The boots are cheap military look-alikes and butch as hell. The cardigan is about as dressed up as jeans.  I am going to wear jeans, a blouse + a nice scarf - for the dressed up nice part - bring the cardigan and a wintercoat in my bag and wear semi-nice black flat shoes. If I stand out, so be it. I will at least still be among the living come tomorrow. It's raining. It's FREEZING cold. I'll be stuck on a wooden bench and be uncomfortable the entire friggin' evening. And I'm not allowed to get drunk. Boo.

Fuck. All. Dress. Codes!

HUZZAH! Summer vacation is over

What a relief! Vacation for us married moms is a lot of work, at least it is for this old hag. Garden parties, birthday parties, family gatherings with baking, cooking, preparing and cleaning.

Holy mother of all cows! The cleaning of houses and washing of clothes....

Yesterday I barely got out of bed at all. I ached so bad my body just shut down on me, and my brain refused to wake up.

 With teenagers holding the fort at home and Georg and I (hubby hasn't had his vacation yet, so he'll come up during weekends only) residing up at the farm, I get to clean twice a week at least. I work like a madwoman to clean the house and wash all the clothes before we head up to the mountain. Then I get to clean the cabin 2-3 days after, before we head back home, where, whaddya know, it's time to clean the house again. Not to mention the mountain of dirty laundry that is screaming at me to be washed.






Lets not forget about mowing the lawnS. I get to do that twice a week as well. Dang, I'm lucky! Crabtastically so.


Why do I get to do all the cleaning and mowing (I'm pretending you're asking me this) ? I honestly don't know, well, I kind of do. Hubby is still working crazy hours at work and when he's not at work, he's been fixing tractors and digging ditches in the marsh to dry it out enough for them to get out the trees this winter.

He has also been helping his brother fix his boat, so naturally there has been no time to fix OUR old volvo - the car that I use.

For the last three weeks I've only been able to use it when the sun is shining and it's daylight. 
The windshield wipers are broken, the tires are so worn out that every time I drove it, even on sunny days, I half way expected one of them to explode on me. There was not even one single light left on the car that worked.

If I had been pulled over, they'd take the license plates off immediately, if I was lucky. Likely I'd have gotten a fine or have my license withdrawn as well.


He finally got around to change tires, light bulbs and fix the wipers yesterday, because I took the only keys to the new volvo and told him that until he got the old volvo fixed, he wouldn't be using the new one.




I had gotten to the point where I was wondering why I'm married, or involved with any men at all, then I found this


...and I remembered, they are good for some things :P








My apologies for being a whiny bitch. It'll get better, promise.

I've been drafting silly blog posts during my stay away from civilization and internet, but they're still in on notepads. For instance, I learned a new word; fotherMucker! it's my favorite these days...

I'll get them typed and posted when my brain is working

Psst, Inspiration, where are you?

There must be something seriously wrong with me. The walls are painted and the paint is dry, but all my stuff is still in boxes in a stack in the middle of the room. The furniture still have paper towels underneath their legs, because I haven't figured out where they ought to be.

If it wasn't for the book cases looking so lonely without books, I think I'd be able to live happily ever after with half my living room in boxes and no paintings on the walls. Well, I've got two of them up. They were easy and already had their appointed place.

The blinds are up and the new curtain rods, but I've only gotten up curtains for 3 of the windows. The store didn't have all the ones I needed in storage when I bought them at half price. Naturally I paid for them all, then as I didn't want to wait and pay full price for them a month later. According to the store they would get the rest of them by last week. I heard nothing from them last week.

 I heard nothing from them yesterday and I haven't heard anything today, either, but hey, the day isn't over, so I'm not going to go all pessimistic about that just yet. I'll start calling them and nagging about my curtains from tomorrow.

My SIL and her oldest daughter, is coming up Thursday to help me get it all in order if I haven't managed to get it done before then. She loves doing this type of things.

SIL: "What do you mean you haven't refurnished or gotten things in order? That is the F.U.N. part! I love to do that, I'll come and do it. I'll be happy to. Honestly. Please let me."

Me: "Good for you" (Silently) Out loud I swallowed, then said: "Really? How nice. Of course you can help, what about Thursday?" 

Why did I accept her help? Because I'm a whuss, that's why. And because she sounded so happy. I didn't have it in me to refuse...


I have to get most of it up and I definitely have to at least have an idea where I want the sofa group to be before Thursday. They'll turn my living room into someone else's living room if not. It'll be like living as a stranger in my own house.  I can clearly see it in my mind what will happen when I get up, not quite awake, bumping into pieces of furniture that I would swear wasn't there when I went to bed. 

Before you know it I'd be screaming ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE at the top of my lungs, fighting imaginary foes and fairies with my kitchenware weapons of mass destruction and demanding that my family stop what their doing immediately to gather up at the farm for an end-of-the-world war-meeting.

Oy vey! I'm already hearing this song in my head

New batteries? Yes, please! - Updated

 Warning! Feel free to ignore

3 hours last night, 2 hours this night. I'm Sleep painting.

But!!!! The walls upstairs are painted. Huzzah!

My MIL helped paint. Loooong day. I worked an hour before she came, then we painted for 8 hours, then I had a break to mow the lawn. After that I spent about 3 hours washing window sills and trimmings. Removing old tape bits and glue almost killed me. No more tape for Christmas decorations, etc in this house, fer sure! Also, pen strokes on white concrete walls are nothing! Pensils, though, ai, ai, ai. It is a nightmare to get off!

I finished 10:30 pm. Soooo tired, I collapsed in bed dead certain I would fall asleep immediately. Man, was I wrong!  Last time I checked the time it was nearly 4 am. Stupid aches and insomnia >.<

Just need my body to hold together one more day, then I can enter zombie state for the weekend. All I plan to do this weekend is get the furniture, etc back in their right place, give Georg a thorough bath and grooming, then the rest of the time I plan to...

Zzzzzzz

Tuesday I'm taking Georg to the Vet to get his ears checked. The poor dog is nearly deaf.

Have a great weekend, folks!


Update:

Job is done

 

Summer = vacation, or not?

Well. That wonderful home-alone-weekend didn't happen. Well, it happened, but it was a rather too much alone for it to be wonderful, as hubby had to work late Friday and then he had to work all day and half the evening Saturday and Sunday he was gone all day and half the night with his brother to pick up their new boat.  The late Saturday evening we did have together doesn't really count as all he could talk about was his job <_<

This promotion is not as great as it seemed to be a month ago. The former boss left without doing any of the stuff he was supposed to do. There are still nobody to take over hubby's former job, so he still has to do 2 full jobs - which you can imagine isn't really possible, so the stress added is enormous as he has to do a more than good job to keep a job. period. Turns out the former boss ran the department in the ditch. The books show bad numbers and that is after they've been 'tinkered with to look good -_-

One of his former colleges crashed his motor bike - again. Last summer when he crashed, he broke his foot and spent the entire summer at hospital. This summer it is a lot more serious. His back is broken(but he won't become lame),  his leg and his jaw. Thankfully they think he will be fine, but it will take a long time before he is back at work. That means they're now 2 men short and hubby's vacation has gone up in smoke. It shouldn't have, but seeing as his new boss-lady insisted on having hers, he apparently has to give up his. (No, I don't understand this, so don't ask)

Hubby being stressed, means he's freaking out money wise. We are on an even more No-spend policy than when we didn't have any money to spend. That he was the one insisting on getting a higher loan so that we could buy a more expensive car, is beside the point. That I went ahead and bought curtains and clothes for Simen and I, is a major point- even though he was the one insisting on me doing exactly this beforehand. (yeah, another example of hubby-logic I don't get) Well, I get that I spent a lot of money on non-important things as clothes and curtains, but still...probably just a need to vent. I can let it go.
I. Must. Be. Patient. And. Understanding.

Oh, and he also informed me that all the things needed to be done around the house and the farm are things that he won't have time to do this year after all. (These are things that have already been postponed to the limit. Take the barn, for instance. The barn needs to be treated for wood parasites or it'll fall down on our heads. Same goes for the attic in our cabin. These are things that can not wait another year. period!)

In reality, this promotion of his means no more money, a lot of more work for hubby and a lot of more work for me as I have to do all the things that absolutely HAS TO be done with the house and the farm - paint, repairs and maintenance. 
When discussing this with him, it was made totally clear that I am not allowed to call for his family to help me out with the things that are too heavy for me to do. I am not allowed to pay for it to get done by professionals. I am allowed to get Simen to help me, but he is only 16 and I am not allowed to do work that will give me inflammations(Read - will make him look bad to family and others for letting me do too much work that should have been done by him). This is such a silly joke, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. But there you have it. The craziness must go on?

Bad hair day

You know you've had them. We've all had them. My problem, though, isn't so much having a bad hair day, but my lack of it. I was at the hair dresser the other day. Got rid of the worn and torn ends, got it high lightened - I'm a natural blond, so my hair doesn't turn gray, but white - she  does her magic and voila, my natural white old-lady-looking hair appears like the highlighted areas, while the hair she actually highlights, appears like natural blond young-lady-looking hair.  I walk out of there feeling pretty and 10 years younger.

Until I get home and take a look in the mirror at the thinning area on top of my scalp. No amount of hairdressing magic can fix what the dratted psoriasis has taken away.

Men has it easier in this area. Not that I don't sympathize with the young 20 something guys who start loosing their hair, cause I do, I really do. Still, it is a lot more acceptable for men to go bald, isn't it? They can cut it short-short and still be considered good-lookin', or shave it all off and look damned sexy.

Sadly, 'Good-lookin' and 'Sexy' aren't usually in the vocabulary used to describe us thin haired ladies.  More often than not, people think we have terminal cancer. We get sympathetic stares from strangers and people we don't know that well come up to us, take our hands, look us  in our eyes with the kind of fake understanding look some people like to wrap themselves in, you know the look I mean, right? They then ask us, gravely:

 "How are you feeling these days, dear [insert name]? What are your prognoses?" 

After you've explained that it isn't cancer but psoriasis they usually say:

"Oh."

and let go of your hand so quickly you'd think it had turned into a burning stick. Then comes the awkward silent moment. I know this is when I should probably go on explaining politely what psoriasis is and that it isn't contagious, but I don't. I make some lame excuse about being busy and walk on while fighting the urge to run to the nearest cave and hibernate for a lifetime or two.What I'd really like to do is scream in their face on top of my lungs: 

"THANK YOU FOR POINTING OUT HOW SHITTY I LOOK, IN A DAY'S TIME YOUR HAIR WILL START FALLING OUT TOO AND THE ONLY THING THAT WILL GROW HAIR ON YOU FROM NOW ON, ARE THE HUMONGOUS WARTS YOU'LL BE SPROUTING ON YOUR FACE! HAH!"


Of course, I'm not ever going to do this. I mean, I won't lie, it'll probably make me feel oh, so good there and then, but afterwards I'd feel oh, so bad. Besides, I'd have to face yet another label to my name; 'Furiously Insane' and I don't need that added stress.

  Instead I might just tell them this hilarious joke I read today. It absolutely made my day and I'll share it with you.

As you probably know God, in his divine wisdom, has created infinite numbers of heads, but did you know he hide those heads he's ashamed of under a lot of hair?!? 

Take that, you luscious thick haired beauties out there! *evil grin* (I know, I'm such a mean bitch and I really don't care) 


I've told hubby that one of these days I'll muster up the guts and just shave off all my hair and go bald. He says he thinks I should. ....it's just that I suspect I have silly bumps in my head. When I tell him this,  he just laughs, kisses me and tells me that he's certain I'd look dead sexy. I love his crazy ass so much and I wish I had a sexy bald head like Gail Ann Dorsey

Have a hairy day. Or not.

PS! Psoriasis doesn't really give you humongous warts. Just sayin'...

I got hacked

I apologize for those of you who clicked that link in that post I did not make and have now removed.

 I don't know who hacked into my hotmail and gmail/blogger account.

 If you have received emails from me in the last week, delete it without opening it or clicking any links. I've been at the cabin and haven't been online at all.

To whomever hacked my account, you'll pay, eventually. There is a special place in hell for you. Have a nice day.