Facts of Eli

When your fingers are cold, your smartphone won't acknowledge you.

Ramble-ramble-ramble-nonsense-and-shit

Tick season has started over here. I need to get some anti-tick drops for Marianne (They don't make tick collars for St Bernards - at least my vet don't have any) I also need to get an appointment for X-rays and the 1-year-old check up for her. She'll be 1 year May 21st. w00t!





Marianne has been inventive() this week(read: Runar forgot to watch her) She managed to persuade Runar(read: she looked up at Runar and waggled her tail happily as normal dogs do) to take her to work with him. He had a meeting at his partners' shop and guess what she found? A whole mound of finely ground graphite - you know, the stuff pensils are made of  - and she gave herself a graphite bath.

Runar called home and warned me and told me to rig up the hose to give her a bath on the patio, because the black dust monster wasn't safe near anyone, or anything. Only thing is that the extra piece needed to hook the hose to our shower, had disappeared during winter(read: I'm afraid I threw it in the garbage during one of my frantic cleaning-out-the-damned-shed modes). It was either ice-cold water from the outdoor tap, or we'd have to get her into the shower. We chose the shower, because it's still cold enough that an outdoor shower in cold water would probably give her a serious cold. She's fine swimming in the lake, or sea, because her fur is such that it insulates from water getting all the way down to her skin, but as soon as you add soap/shampoo, that protection vanishes and they get wet and cold as us furless two-legged beings.

We barely got her into the shower. Runar pulled and I pushed and then forced the shower door closed. I had to hold the door closed during the entire shower ordeal, because Marianne tried to gnaw her way out.

I iz sowy










The shower got more than half of the graphite dust off her, but not all, so Runar volunteered(read: I was thiis |~| close to strangle the man to death) to take her down to the lake and get her to take a long swim. It didn't really help, but it gave me time enough to clean the dust off everything she touched on her way to the shower and to cool down a bit, so as not to stand ready with a cleaver when man got back. I don't think it did much good with the swim. She still has grey-ish spots here and there and it's been 2 days, 1 shower and 3 baths since she dove into the mound. At least it doesn't smear off onto everything else, anymore.

Helene ended up in the ER, yesterday. They suspected appendicitis and kept her over night, but her CRP levels was much better today and the pain was almost gone as well, so they let her home today. She got a note giving her immediate access to a hospital bed if she gets worse during the first 24 hours.

Runar has a minor repair job to do in Stavanger tomorrow, so I'm hitching a ride with him and will spend the day with her. I just have to see with my own eyes, that she looks okay.

 (yes, I admit I'm as hysterical as any other mom when it comes down to these things). I embarrassed the heck out of her. She gave me a text saying she was on her way to the hospital and that it was possible it was appendicitis, but that I couldn't call as she was out of power on her cell. Of course I called the hospital and got them to track her down and give her a hospital phone so I could talk to her. Duh! It's what moms do under such circumstances. Actually I was ready to steal a car and start driving, but Runar managed to persuade me otherwise.

It's funny, I've never viewed myself as a hysterical mom, but when things like this happens, the infamous mother-monster in me wakes up and roars. Loudly.




Messages like "I'm quite fine, you don't need to come". translates into "Oh, my god, I'm dying, you have to come. Right now!"  It's the same with messages like "I didn't do anything wrong, but..." They translates into "I've committed a terrible crime and will be locked up in prison for life" (When Simen calls and begins his sentences like this while out doing his russe shenanigans and has run out of money and needs help to get home.) I automatically interrupt him mid sentence and  half yell, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, NOW?!?"




Also, I have sadly reached the point where I have to start dieting. *pout* Damn 40+ Things really starts going downhill fast after 40. My mind tells me I'm still quick and flexible. My body shouts otherwise. And fuck! Kilos shows up in thin air and clings to my body for life. I expect to gain weight during the worst of the winter months, because I  take shorter and fewer walks and no hikes in the wood. I've done that every winter the last few years, but earlier, those extra kilos have vanished quickly enough when spring comes and I start hiking again. Not this year. *pout*

Okay, I still don't do dieting for realz, because my dieting consists of eating whole grain breads of various kinds and no chocolate or candy snacking. I still have a ton of butter on those whole grain thingies and I still eat normal dinners as always. Meh.

I have plans on starting doing yoga, but I still haven't found a youtube yoga session that I like. It's probably more a case of me  just not knowing what to look for. Halp, plz?


Oh, OOOOOHHHH! Guess what? Those pesky cottage neighbors actually PAID!!!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAH!

Uhm...it doesn't really give us any extra money to use on fun stuff, to be honest. We're in the minus after a winter of little, to no paycheck, so what it means is that we get to keep both our house and Vintland and escape bankruptcy. We are fit to keep on hanging in there.   HIPfuckingHURRAY!

I'm desperately trying to de-frost my freezer. I've got one of those combi fridge/freezer thingies. It is supposed to! be of the type that does these things automatically. After enough years and after enough incidents of forgetting to shut the door properly, the automatic-get-rid-of-excess-ice function, doesn't function. Ice was threatening to take over the whole thing.

I have a regular old fashion freezer too, so I moved all of the frozen wares into that and let the door open yesterday morning. The idiotic thing with these fancy automatic thawing wonder machines, is that when you actually have to do it manually, there is no way of turning off the power  for the freezer only. Options are spoiled food in the fridge, or thawing out the ice by leaving the freezer door open.

After 24 hours of open door thawing, the ice has been reduced by NOTHING!


Like this times 9.












Naturally, I've now done what is said you should not do. Ever. I've put a heating fan right outside the freezer door and it is working excellently. So there!
At least it hasn't started any fires...yet.  Patience issues much?!?

Since it's almost Friday I wish you a fantabulous weekend, guys!

I HAVE BEES IN MY GARDEN, but I will never be able to live off my photography,

I know that very well. It's a mystery why I keep at it...but I do.

I HAS BEES IN MAH GARDEN!

Suddenly I love my messy old garden. It may not be pretty, but at least the bees like visiting and that ought to mean something, doesn't it?

As I said; I'll never be a photographer
You can nearly see half of her

Yes I know it's a she-bee*



*expl. will follow




It's a bee!

It looks like she's flying without wings, even though she's obviously carrying big yellow bags.


 It is living proof of bees still exist and the world isn't going to end. At least not tomorrow.

These are rose leaves. Interesting. Below them and in the background, you can barely see a bee. Do-it-yourself-zoom-in-style

Notice how I also broke the Don't-take-standing-pictures-rule? Skillz. Pure skillz.













Oh, see, a cut rose stalk. Fascinating.

I'm a big fan of impulsive clicking.    Uncontrollably.     You can always trust that method. Nothing good, or interesting ever comes from it.








Honestly? I'm terrible. I don't know how my phone camera works. Half the time I can't find the zoom button. I just can't seem to dig up the interest of learning it. I'm having a classical old-people-archetypes moment with everything regarding cellphones.


This is me while experiencing a crash course of camera functions given by Simen. He is clicking the button just when I'm exclaiming; I can see me!

I am really trying here, peeps. Can you see all that enthusiasm? I amaze me sometimes.














I really should learn how to take better pictures.



PS! I apologize for incessant use of sarcasm.

PPS! ...not really.

Speaking in public

I'm a member of the Norwegian Humanist Assosiation and have been a local board member the last 4-5 years. This month is when we hold our annual Coming-of-Age Ceremony. Hubby, Simen and I have been helping out with the ceremony as many years, because we appreciate the year long program-course with emphasis on respect and tolerance of others, that the kids are taking part of and the beautiful ceremony that is held to honor our young teenagers that will grow up to become pillars of our community.

The ceremony is April 26th. This week we had a summary meeting with both teens and parents. Thursday is the big rehearsal. I had to step in as a chairperson for the meeting.


Speaking in public freaks me out so bad. I know it  sounds weird. I've worked as a teacher, how can that be possible.

I don't mind a classroom full of kids, or adults for that matter - when I started out as a teacher, many of the students were twice my age.

 Put me on a stage with a microphone and I die a million times inside. It takes all I've got to not just crumble down and faint.

 I'm much more comfortable helping out behind the stage, so to speak. Being responsible for the catering, rigging, cleaning, etc. This year, however, all the other boardmembers and course leaders were away, or at their regular jobs.

Thankfully I only got 4 days' notice. If I had known for longer, I'd probably ended up institutionalized. My old mentor and former teacher-colleague had made a powerpoint presentation with notes, the wonderful young course leaders (former Coming-of-Age participants) agreed to take care of the course summary, etc, so there really weren't much left to do for me. I still had to do the welcome and go through the practical information about the ceremony. It was enough for a brainmelt. I did what I always do with things way outside my comfort zone. I go ahead and try not think about it, because it's a job and the job needs to be done regardless.

• I completely forgot to present myself. A few parents approached me afterwards and politely asked my name. Sooo embarrassing. It's like I was raised in a barn with no manners

• I miss-pronounced several of the participants' names during the name-call. (although this is one of the points with the meeting, making sure the participants' names are correct and pronounced correctly)

• Sweat ran down my face. In friggin' rivers. I tried to wipe it off discreetly, but with 150 people watching? Nah...

• I messed up a few times and had the whole room break out in loud laughter 

• I did manage to bring up everything I was supposed to and my voice didn't shake - which was my biggest fear. 

I was so much in a hurry to get home afterwards, that I helped put back all the tables and chairs - the meeting was held at the high school cafeteria. Baaad. 

I didn't sleep at all that night and I was a complete wreck the next day. All the things I could have done differently/better kept swirling around in my mind like annoyed little wasps. 

I slept alright tonight, but my arms still feels like lead and my shoulders are letting me know I was a stupid idiot for carrying tables high above my head. I took Marianne for a hike down to the sea and I feel like I've been run through the army recruit work-out-routine

At least it's done and over with. 

How do you deal with situations outside your comfort zone? Have you done any public speeches? How do you prepare? Does it get any better, ever?  

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!

A break

...from the internet. There are a lot of things going on in my real life and I need to focus my energy on taking care of my family.

Things are fine, I just don't have much extra energy these days. I'm not going to say I will go offline, I'm just saying I won't be blogging regularly and I won't be as active on forums, blogs, facebook, etc.

Today Sue and Rick is coming. I'm picking them up at the airport tonight and will drive them up to the farm at Vintland. They'll be staying for about two weeks. I'm sure there will be pictures posted at some point or other.

Marianne has discovered the joy of pillows. We'll be practicing enjoying sofa-life and watching netflix, when not busy with other things.

She got her 3 months-vaccine, yesterday. The vet confirmed what we already know; Marianne is a perfect and healthy pup with the cutest face ever.

Yes, I finally got around to ordering netflix and Helene helped me to access the American netflix. I get to catch up on my favorite shows. Like Dr Who. *beams*

I crashed...

Big time. Not like it wasn't expected. We got the last of it painted Wednesday evening and Thursday I had to clean the house, because hubby had arranged a business meeting to take place at us. I was so worn out by the time I was done I barely knew my own name anymore. I was ready for bed at 4: 30 in the afternoon. Instead hubby persuaded me to take the dogs with me up to the farm. He would be coming in the semi-broken car, later, but late. I realized that perhaps it would be best if I removed myself and the dogs from the house, so that nothing would interrupt the meeting and agreed.

I cried most of the way up and continued to cry all evening. (When I say cry, I mean tears were running and I couldn't do shit to stop them) Marianne was absolutely crazy. After a week of having to behave and being a lot alone, while we painted, she was in a frenzy. She vented on Georg and when I took her away, she snapped, growled and tried eating me... It was not funny. It was your classical melt-down scene.

Sometime after midnight the hubby arrived and paled when he saw me.

I have known I would crash. The hectic pace since spring and especially after I got my cortisone shot and let the gang know I could now move my arm again, has been ridiculous. People getting serious ill, but only two of us know it and we aren't allowed to tell ANYBODY. The new puppy. Hubby has been rather manic, because so much has been going on in his life - changing jobs. New job heading toward bankruptcy. Starting up a new business with a colleague. All the jazz that goes with all of this.

I knew I had to have a serious chat with him, but there never seemed to be a good time. He's a bright guy, he would instinctively know when he'd step on my toes to the point of explosion and would take measures to  prevent that by either accusing me of something, throwing me off with a new crisis of some kind, hand me a new job I absolutely had to do RIGHT NOW!  You name it.

I am the worst arguer in two shoes. I can stand up for anybody else with a fierceness that scares the daylight out of most people, but I swallow camels on a daily basis to avoid confrontations with things regarding myself. Stupid! Old bible verse from my childhood jumps into my brain when I try to speak up for myself. "Let him who is without sin, throw the first stone", "Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own?", etc  I know! I open my mouth to speak up and these things threatens to come out instead. WTF?!?

I sat down and wrote a letter the other week, when I realized I wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer. I got all my frustrations and all the wrongs that had been done to me the last 6 months or so, down on paper. It felt great, but I couldn't actually send it before I had done some editing. Or so I told myself.

It didn't get sent, because I didn't ever have time to sit down and read it through, edit and send it.

I gave him the un-edited version this weekend.

I do a lot better in writing, than I do speaking out loud. Those written words hit home. Yesterday he put in a new water pump in the old volvo. He also asks permission to call his work colleague, but I'll let that sarcastic stab in the gut, pass unnoticed. The main thing is that he got a wake-up-call and he admitted that most of what I wrote was true and he knew it, just...I don't know.

Hopefully he'll be a grownup for a while and help pull the load with me and not add to the load and run away. Hopefully I'll be able to write him a letter more frequently than every 5th year.

Enough whining.

Pictures are better.







Morning bliss - yeah, I'm wearing my PJs and yes, my PJs is an old pair of karate pants. See what I use my iron board for these days in the background? We desperately need to get a stair gate...

Marianne weights about 14 kg here. That means she's gained 6 kg since we got her 4 weeks earlier...







Helene fell in love with this hat. Her boyfriend immediately bought it for her. Her boyfriend spoils her rotten! She still loves bunnies, although she is no longer into hellbunnies...

Marianne thinks Georg is nuts for bathing like this.



















It feels sooo good to cuddle on Helene's shoulder



















My poor garden suffered from lack of care, then got terrorized by a pup and finally my flowerbeds got raped by hubby's preparations for the paintjob...

I managed to save bits of it, at least.









The patio(?) painted, windows and doors painted. I can at least enjoy some sunny warm days down there this fall.
















My peace rose bush did survive. The buds are yellow, then they pale as the flower blooms and they get a pale pinkish tint to them.














I haven't done any knitting, or crocheting since Marianne arrived. The few moments I'm not busy with her, I'm too pooped to do any craft. I have knitted a pair of red felted slippers. They were supposed to have been made for a lady who approached me on my blog, then mail, but when there were talk about actual money, she went silent as the grave. I'm giving them to my kid sister as a bday present, instead. They are being felted as we speak. I'll put up a picture when they're done

The embarrassing confession of a middleaged white crazy woman with too much imagination

I have been stuck up at the farm all week. Runar was supposed to come back up on Monday, work a few hours chopping fire wood and then we'd all go home. 

That didn't happen. His job got in the way. 

Tuesday I was out of most groceries, tobacco and all dog food. Runar would come pick us up in the afternoon. I would manage on wholegrain bread and chewing tobacco until he came. 

It didn't happen. Again. 

Instead Runar's parents came up with groceries+++. We couldn't ride with them home, because there is simply not enough room in their car for Georg. 

Wednesday came. I had again packed and cleaned and we were ready to be picked up. This day his brother's broken down car got in the way. Georg and I went hiking in the woods in the pouring rain instead. It fit my mood perfectly. 

I had a weird, scary dream that night. Probably due to my fear of being alone in a cottage far away from everybody and watching too many scary movies in my teen years about axe murderers, in combination with hearing the news on the radio, about bands of eastern European bandits molesting old people living in remote areas. Naturally I dreamed about being visited by evil axe murdering bandits and by the time I awoke wimpering in a fetal position, it had escalated to a full blown war between Georg and I and all the evilness in the universe. I was rather jumpy all morning. So much so, that Georg noticed and was rather jumpy too. 

What do you know, I got visited by a ...salesman. 

Just to imply just how odd that is, let me inform you that in my soon-to-be 44 years of life I have never experienced or even heard of anyone else experiencing being visited by any salesmen up on there in the mountains. There simply is no market for traveling salesmen among the mountain farmers. 

1) They usually don't have the money to spare for buying anything other than the bare necessities

2) There aren't but two-three farms on the entire mountain that are inhabited all year. It is mostly cottages and summer  houses.

3) Those that do live there hate all strangers and foreign strangers with a vengeance. I'm pretty sure if they were asked, they'd put foreigners right up there along with aliens and devil spawns.

Back to Thursday. It was a nice sunny day. The doors were open. Georg was sleeping with his head on the door sill as usual and I was cross stitching a pillow case - I had ran out of yarn and finished crocheting two summer hats and had found one of my older sisters' cross stitching from decades ago, hidden in the bottom of a wardrobe. Yes, I was that desperate. I had cleaned everything, weeded everything, mowed everything, I had done all the work that I could possibly do.  Radio was on. I was humming along a happy tune. Georg and I had more or less refound our calm, the dream with axe-murdering bandits were but a pale memory, when a kind voice in broken NorwEnglish said 

"Haelloo?" 

I don't know where he was from, other than he was clearly from the African continent. He had an honest kind face and a bright white smile. 

I completely freaked out. I'm embarrassed to say. I jumped  up, cross stitching flying and I shouted

"NO! No, no, no, no, no. NO!" and stupidly waved a hand in front of my face. 

I  somehow lost the ability to speak any other words. 

Then Georg stood up and I grabbed hold of him as he was acting on my freaking out, more than a visit by a stranger. 

I saw the saleman's eyes widen. 

"Nice...?" He said and pointed a shaky indexfinger at the dog.

I also pointed at the dog and found two new words apart from "no", which I still seemed to mumble nonstop under my breath. 

"WATCHDOG! MINE!"

GEORG THE WATCHDOG

The poor visibly shaken nice man only looked at me. Mouth slightly agape. 

I searched my mind desperately after something to say. Something that wasn't shouting threats. something calm, nice and polite. 

"GOOD BYE!" 

He ran. 

I have no idea what he wanted. I'm not even sure he was a salesman, other than that he carried a black suitcase often used by traveling students from 3rd world countries trying to sell their arts so that they can afford to eat while finishing their studies in this insanely expensive cold country. It could be that his car broke down and he needed help, to borrow my phone, some water...I will likely never know. He is quite likely now become 110% certain of white middle aged women's utter lack of sanity. 

I walked out to the road to see if I could see him, but he must have just continued running for his life. Maybe he thought I'd let Georg kill him and then we'd eat him for supper...

I am guilty of all the horrible prejudice that I thought only belonged to my parents and their like, that I swore I would never fall victim too. 

Runar did come that afternoon. We actually finished the wood chopping. This season's firewood  work for us, family and sale is done. Whee. 

I admitted my horrendous meeting with the stranger. He laughed his ass off, of course.  Then he was silent for a while, having that pondering look where his brows gets all furry, before proclaiming loudly:

"I'mma make you a sawed off shotgun that I'm going to place on a secret shelf above the door. Just in case a band of axe-murdering bandits does show up when you're up here alone. I mean. Come on, Georg saving you? How? Drowning them in drool?" 

I was too shocked to speak. I had a terrifying image of my crazy freaked out self with a sawed off shotgun - illegal one, made out of two old before-WW2-old semi broken shotguns armed with buckshells - going completely TEXAS up in the mountains. Not a pretty sight, I tell yah! Oy vey! 

 

Me in one of the summer hats I crocheted. Taken before the bad dream and the embarrassing meeting with the stranger, while I was still happy-go-lucky ignorant of my dark prejudice side

How the felted slippers turned out. 

We're heading up to Vintland again today. For the weekend. We're going for an uneventful and blissfully boring weekend. Runar will be sorting out his tools, etc. I'm going to start on my secret project - knitting socks with thorn pattern. Sort of like a barbed wire thorn pattern. I have no idea how to do it, or how it'll turn out. 

Magic

Do you have some? I could need some magic. Sometimes medicine can be magic, but other times it just doesn't do the trick.  They've warned the general public about extreme pollen, this spring. My kid sister woke up with blisters on and around her eyes. She didn't realize she even had allergies. Thankfully allergy meds helped.

I went a month from before Easter until about a week ago with constant fever and inflammation. The arthritis meds just didn't seem to do the trick. I was able to do less and less and even thinking about moving my right arm, hurt like hell. Yesterday my doc gave me a cortisone shot. Holy mackerel! 

 The shot itself wasn't bad, I mean, the shoulder/arm hurt before, during and afterwards. Ways afterwards it was like a furnace was living inside it, but this morning I woke up and what do you know, I can actually move my arm. Magic!

She chewed me out for not seeing her earlier. That seems to be the basics of our relationship... I am being sick in all the wrong ways. I need to learn how to be sick the right way. I need to learn to be loud and articulate about the inflammations and the fever and not wait it out in silent misery.

It sounds stupid, I know, but that is an impossibly big ocean to cross for me. I am not quite sure why it is like this, although I am fully aware that it is some kind of built-in defense mechanism at large, but for some reason I pretend everything is fine, until I am so sick I'm barely conscious. This is stupid and I know this, but when I get really sick, this knowledge-that-I-know-so-well goes *poof* out the window. Like magic. The bad type of magic. 

I haven't quit smoking yet. I've used all the excuses out there and then some. Talk about bad magic. I need some amazeballmagic to work this one out. Hubby has decided to help motivate me. He now refers to me as a drug addict. Drug addicts have limited access to everything(I think this means everything fun). Not the amazeballmagic I dreamt of, but it's what I've got, so I'll have to just make it work...

The snow is gone and I've been on my first few hiking trips in the woods with Georg. This is good magic all around. I need to get back to our regular hiking trips with my friend Marianne and her English Cocker Spaniel; Noori.

I need to get my house and garden up to par. Now that I can move my arm again, I'm ready to get to work. I just have to remember taking babysteps. Therein lies my challenge. The list is a long one and it's gotten longer over the winter. It will take time. I have all the time I need. It's not a problem. My lack of patience is my problem. I have to learn to take on one item at a time, instead of five. I need some good magic to do this too.

Saw the dentist the other day. The new dentist is a young lady. Gorgeous looking and sweet. My former dentist was old, grey, serious as a grave and constantly referring to me as Mrs Jakobsen. The new one is all smiles and happiness and considerate about my issues with coffee and nicotine stains. Before I knew it I had made a deal about seeing her twice a year.  Ridiculous, I know. I haven't had any cavities for years and years. The dentist is over-the-top expensive. I fear dentists like the plague. To the point where the dentist assistant needs to call me a week, or less, before my appointment, so that I don't have time to worry myself into a fullblown panic attack. Now I'm going through this twice a year? Just because of a gorgeous looking, sweet female smiled to me in such a nice way while telling me that seeing her an extra time a year would give me a prettier smile... Sneaky magic at work here. The word "sucker" echoes through my mind.

 In two weeks my friend Ellen and I are visiting Helene. We'll be sharing a double room. She's shared beds with me before and can handle all the weird stuff I do in my sleep. There will be a festival going on the weekend we're there. I'll be taking Helene shopping. There will be lunch with alcohol. It'll be fun. It'll be magic.
  

Books and knitting. Best kind of escape

I needed an escape for my mind, while my hands are busy knitting, so I ordered Read Country audio book. I have the hard cover and have read it, already. It's just that good.

 The good thing about books, is that they are the perfect escape and/or medicine there is. The good thing about audio books, is that you get to download instantly and start listening right away.

Say one thing for Read Country, say they got it worse than you.




Did I mention I miss summer? I miss summer so bad, it hurts. I want to sit outside up at the farm, listening to some randy audio book and knit and then have hubby walking by, stopping in his tracks, jaw gaping and totally taken aback - for completely different reasons, though - asking: "Did he just say what I think he said?" and I'll have a proper belly-laugh, because there is nothing like a flabbergasted husband on a summer night's eve up on the mountain.

*Whoosh* - the sound of yet another week flying by

It's been an eventful week.. The kind of week that doesn't abide well with me. The cold temps and then this last week with temps going below and above freezing, rain, sleet and snow alternately is wreaking havoc with my fibro and arthritis. I have to admit that in those periods I don't handle stress very well. Not. At. All.

I followed my mother to the doctor earlier this week. They've reached that age where the line between child and parent remains, but where the roles are swapped.

Turns out they had forgotten to give her the prescription on blood thinners, she was supposed to have started on last year. I also mentioned to her doctor about the pressure she's feeling around her chest when she's doing physical work - like shoveling snow. (They shouldn't be doing these things, but they insist on clearing the steps on their own) She, herself, had completely forgotten to mention this,  because she didn't think it was important. My dad, thankfully, remembered to mention it right before we left the house. The doctor found it important enough to put her up for a thorough check at the hospital.

My dad was hospitalized this week. Atrial fibrillation and liquid in his lungs. He's been put on diuretics, which they hope will remove it, or at least reduce it. He's coming home today.

It's tough to watch them grow older and weaker. Even though I knew this would happen and I've observed grandparents growing old and how our parents had to care for them, I wasn't prepared. I'm not sure you can be fully prepared for these things.

How to offer them help without compromising their integrity and pride. How to suggest necessary steps to ensure their safety without insulting them. How to persuade them to accept that there are things they can no longer do themselves. How to do all this without ending up a slave to all their whims and impulsive ideas. How to avoid getting frustrated and annoyed at them 'nagging' on you all the time.

They don't nag on me all the time, but I still get frustrated and annoyed. I'm just not a good enough person to avoid the groan when the landline rings and I know it's my mom, because my phone number is the only number she remembers and there are only two persons in the whole world who ever calls me on the landline. And no, I don't have the heart to drop the landline, even though it is expensive, because that IS the only number my mother remembers. I'm not THAT bad a person, either, and if there is an emergency she needs to get hold of someone, like when my dad was hospitalized.

There may be permanent nerve damage on Simen's teeth. He's up for further checks next week. For now, he's surviving on soft foodz only. Recipe suggestions are much appreciated.

I've started on Vater's Yoda-hat. Whee!

Roles you play, or fall back into

Just curious, do you ever find yourself behaving, or acting a certain way around certain people? Do you find yourself in roles you really don't like, or ones you really do?

These past weeks have showed me that I most certainly do.

Earlier this fall, when we were up at the farm - the weekend we made the bits and pieces for the birch santas, actually - I was achy, tired of people, tired of myself and generally being bitchy. My sister Hildegunn called and wanted to come up for coffee, that is, she parks her car at the bottom of the steep road up to the mountain and walk/jog up as a workout thing, then she drinks coffee, make herself lunch and usually wants me to drive her back down, because she's tired, or lazy, or it's too dark, or just because. 

Being close sisters, there isn't much of a filter between us, or if there was, it was eroded down before she even started school, so I replied. "Fine, but I'm bitchy today!" To which she replied: "Fine, I'm still coming!"  Which she did and I let my bitchiness out on her relentlessly, making her help me with boring work the way only older sisters can do and she responded whiningly and poutingly, while still doing whatever I told her to as only younger sisters can do.  Still, we usually end up in a good mood, albeit a somewhat crazy good mood, where we take our burlesque, bad-taste, bizarre sense of humour to the limit and beyond.

Runar later commented that the two of us together when we have 'one of those days' are a handful as we bounce right back to our infantile selves and are totally obnoxious.

When I'm with my older sister closest to me, it's the same thing, only the roles are reversed. The humour is the same and I'd like to think I don't go completely whiny infantile, but...

When I spend time with my oldest sister, I automatically enter the little-sister-aim-to-please role. I am constantly afraid of doing something wrong. I make sure I talk properly, moving my lips and pronouncing words clearly and I never curse around her, ever. She will - I kid you not - immediately and loudly correct my grammar, yell at me for mumbling, etc whenever and wherever. If I spend too much time around her I get completely worn out, because I can't really relax. There are so many rules and limits that most likely exist in my head, only, but feel just as real as any physical boundaries do. The only time I feel I'm close to being on the same page as she, is when I'm seriously P'ed off at Runar and complain about men in general. It's a favorite pet peeve of hers, I think, men behaving badly...

My next oldest sister I don't really know well enough to have a sister relationship with, but we enjoy each other's company and we can be ourselves and relax, because none of us are particularly judgmental or opinionated.

With some people I knew well as a kid, it doesn't matter that I haven't spoken to in years. We fall back into the familiar role as good friends as if the years apart didn't exist at all. Nina(who recently lost her father) is one. When I read the obituary, I was shocked and then terrified of calling her, because I had no idea what to say.    I lost contact with all my childhood friends during the early years of marriage, for reasons I'm not going into here, and have only spoken to them on rare occasions. I still consider them good friends and I wanted to let Nina know I was there for her if she needed anything.  I didn't have her phone number and spent a couple of hours looking up and contacting other childhood friends I thought would have her number. I finally got her number, but in my angst ridden inner nightmare chickened out and ended up sending her a text with my condolences, feeling as lousy as could be the second I hit 'send'

When I read her reply, I immediately called her and all my angst and worry was for nothing, because it was as if we'd just talked yesterday. We were right back to our roles as best friends without any filters, tears and laughs flowing naturally and in full.

It made me sit down and ponder on the different roles I automatically and unconsciously enter and exit. It made me aware of the roles I really don't like and it made me  realize that I need to do a better job at getting back in touch with my few really good childhood friends. I like that 'me'. I need that 'me' to play a bigger part of the movie that is my life.

I am not sure I'll ever be able to exterminate the role of  aim-to-please-Eli I am around some of my family members, but maybe I'll be able to at least diminish her to only playing very minor roles. That would be nice.

Have you ever thought about this much? Have you ever considered how many different roles you enter and exit during your everyday life? Roles you don't really think about, because they're all part of you. The role of wife, mother, colleague, young woman, grown woman, middle aged woman, old woman, friend, teacher, student...

PS! You should probably not think too hard on this, though. I'm now wondering if the line between normal and schizophrenic is a lot closer to home, than I used to think.

PPS! I don't know much about schizophrenia, but I've worked with a couple and dealt with a few with personality disorders. I don't mean to offend those suffering from this, or take this illness lightly, because it's a terrible and crippling illness that I don't wish on my worst enemy, but being one who has tried to get some sort of understanding of the illness without actually studying psychology, I can easily see how the endless list of different roles we play in our lives, that we enter and exit seemingly unconsciously and seemingly at random can be completely confusing to some people to the extent where they can no longer function.



Oh, and it's weekend, y'all. Remember. Don't take life too seriously...

Holy mother of all cows!

 I went nuts and spent a truckload of money on clothes+++ Seriously, I've never spent so much money on a shopping trip in my life!

I had planned it. My mother in law was with me. Officially we were going to get new curtains and curtain rods for my living room. Turns out I had picked the perfect day for shopping as it was super sale in every store. I made an unbelievably good deal on the curtains. It cost me less than half of what I had thought it would cost me. It made me this happy. >>> 
I mean ridiculously happy and I just went crazy. I came home with an entire new wardrobe...





Now, I'm more like this, wondering when the shopping police will come and take it all back. With interest.

I am totally going to give Runar the air-brushed version of the result. I'll talk A LOT about the insanely good deal I made on the curtain and tell him about the super sale and half price on most summer clothes.

 I'm not going mention actual prices and I'm not going to utter a single word about total amounts. No Siree!

Shh, don't tell on me!













Anyways, tomorrow is FRIDAY and Simen is visiting Helene which means, aye, it's home-alone-weekend.

What about you? got any plans for the long weekend?