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Bouncy Flouncy Pouncy Piles of Birthday Wishes to redpirk!

Hey! Who turned off the heat? The temperature plunged today, in half, and the wind is blowing cold. The pansies are happy about it, though, if no one else is, since they were beginning to wilt. I was afraid it was too good to last, and though I'm very hopeful that the last week and a half of absolutely perfect weather won't be the last we'll see all summer, I've lived in Sweden far too long to be sanguine about our chances. So, hold your thumbs that Swedish summer has not come and gone already in May!

It's exceptionally poor timing on the temperature's part since we caved this past weekend and got us a pool. A pool? In Sweden? Bwahahaha! Yes, I know, we're officially insane, but it was used and only 200 kronor from Anders' boss (his kids are too big for it now) and our kids are over the moon with happiness. It's as high as my waist and big and round, approximately as big as the big trampoline, and though the water is straight out of the hose (read: ICE COLD) that hasn't deterred the children from jumping in the second it was full, and inviting all their friends to join them, whereupon they went dancing around it in a leaping, screaming and shivering circle while the sun shone down on their chattering teeth and blue lips.

Anders is currently building a FENCE around the pool, since according to Swedish law, we are held responsible should anything untoward happen in our pool whether or not we are home. I have already hammered these rules into my children's over-excited brains, but I think I shall have to make a sign in great black letters on a white board and post it on the fence:

Ek Pool: The Rules
1. NO DROWNING
2. NO letting your friends drown
3. NO letting your friend's little brothers/sisters drown
4. NO swimming WHATSOEVER when Mama & Papa aren't home
5. NO sitting on the edge of the pool in your swimsuit WAITING for Mama & Papa to get home. Nice try.
6. ABSOLUTELY NO JUMPING OFF THE TRAMPOLINE INTO THE POOL

There. I am officially a party pooper. But, if you knew how many horrible nightmares about drowning children I have had, you would understand. I had a difficult enough time with swimming lessons.

The last rule is a sort of inside joke that no one else would ever understand, although my sister might possibly remember once I've jogged her memory. And my brother has sworn that it's the first thing he'll do when/if he gets up here while it's summer.

For one year, when I was in sixth grade, we lived in a townhouse complex in Montgomery, Alabama, while my dad did some military officer training school or something. It was the year before we moved to Europe, the year my sister was in the newspaper with a full page spread of her in a bathing suit walking her rabbit on a leash. Living in Alabama was...something special, but the coolest thing about the townhouse complex was that it was built in a series of contained rectangles that each surrounded a large pool. I don't remember how many pools there were, but we had one in our backyard, basically, and so did all of the friends that we made that year, whether they lived in our complex or another.

One complex, not too far from us, housed a family with 2 kids that we became friendly with to a certain degree. They were well-off, from what I remember, and the mother was a country music singer but not anyone famous that I can put a name to. They couldn't have been that big-time, or they certainly wouldn't have been living in a townhouse complex with a bunch of military brats in Montgomery. Anyway, the major thing that I remember about them is that they had a HUGE rectangular trampoline. It was the only trampoline I'd ever been on, and practically the only since, until we bought one for our own kids a few summers ago.

Around THEIR pool, which was apparently a bit more exclusive than ours, was a high brick wall. The trampoline was just inside the wall, on the cement yard surrounding the pool. It was close enough, if you turned the trampoline (with the help of ALL the kids around) end-wise to the pool, to jump FROM THE WALL to the trampoline and BOUNCE INTO THE WATER.

Which was freaking awesome and a wonder that there were never (that I knew of) any pulped skulls or smashed bodies from missing the trampoline or the water.

Anyway, I really hope the summer obliges us by being the best ever so we can justify the stupid pool. Any other rules I need to add in big block letters?

Great Big Gobs of Belated Birthday Wishes to the sadly-missing-in-action Sheryl!

Karin competed in her first karate competition today. She was in the 8-year-old girl's group, competing in kata, which is a short, choreographed series of karate moves. She was pretty nervous about it, but thought it was a lot of fun, and she came in 3rd place! Not too shabby! :) She got a huge 3rd place trophy along with her participant medal and a new t-shirt. Read Karin's summary of her accomplishment.

Does jetlag get worse as you get older? Or is it just my crazy life that has eaten away the foundation of my stability and left me unable to balance evenly? Nearly a week since my return and I'm still waking up at 4 a.m. every morning...of course that could be the fault of the BRIGHT SUNLIGHT streaming in at an ungodly hour and the fact that still, after nearly 6 years in this house, the windows in our bedroom remain shade- and blind-less.

Wednesday was choir (first practice in 4 weeks—croak!) and yesterday my husband celebrated a birthday. It's been gorgeous all week, with beautiful sunshine and lovely temps and we've suddenly slid into full-blown summer. The lilacs are popping out all over and the pansies in the pots are running riot, literally, all over the yard.

Tomorrow a niece gets confirmed in the Swedish church and Karin has her first karate competition, and Sunday is Mother's Day, though not here in Sweden...however, the kids are "taking me out" to lunch anyway.

I keep thinking, as I go through my day, O! I have to remember this! I have to write about this! I have to ...what was it I was going to write about again?

Bedtime Routine
Liz: Good night!
Karin: Good night!
Liz: Sleep tight!
Karin: Sleep tight!
Liz: See you in the morning!
Karin: See you in the morning!
Liz: ...what was the last one? I can't remember. Hmmm...oh yes! I like you!
Karin: *rolls eyes* No, mama.
Liz: You're OK! ...no, that's not right.
Karin: NO mama.
Liz: *brightly* I guess you'll do! *inquiring look*
Karin: *patiently* NO mama.
Liz: Hrmmm...what was it again? oh I know! *nods* You're a good kid, I think I'll keep you!
Karin: *laughs and makes big bug eyes at me*
Liz: I love you! *smiles*
Karin: I love you!
Liz: *leans over for a kiss, bumps lip into Karin's tooth* EW! I just kissed your TOOTH!!
Liz & Karin: *giggle madly*

Biggest Bestest Birthday Wishes EVER to my Swedie Anders! (though posted 1 day late)

Oh GOD STOP RUBBING YOUR EYES, stop stop stop stop !!! AAAAAAGH. *rub rub rub*

I love allergy season. Not.

Flattened by jetlag, I have zombied my way through work today and a parent-teacher conference, with my eyes reduced to tiny, itchy slits through which I peer at people blurrily and then sneeze a few times before blowing my nose. SO beautiful!

THANK YOU
to Chuck for being exactly the person you come across as. For being as comfortable and down-to-earth and humorously self-deprecating in real life as you are online. Thank you for flying all the way across the country to meet me and for using your lovely daughter as the excuse. :D

THANK YOU
to Beth & Cameron for being such great chaperones hosts and for providing a yummy BBQ buffet to boot.

THANK YOU
to Bluepoppy for allowing mom and I to descend for a weekend. I may have said this, but I don't know if you realize how very much I was looking forward to a soul-clearing weekend at Soliden with you. It was everything I hoped for. Great company, loads of laughter, excellent food and beauty in every nook and crevice. With butterscotch pups on top and an excellent music recommendation!

THANK YOU to T for being such a welcoming and friendly guy, for blueberry pancakes and stimulating conversation and letting us grab your girl on her first free weekend of the summer.

THANK YOU to Christina for making the quartet complete, for driving all the way to see us, for your dimpled smile and insights and secret histories. I'm SO glad you could make it.

THANK YOU to Robin for being one of the long-term friends that never gets old. For taking us to an AWESOME restaurant and grabbing the bill out from under us, and for being brave enough to show us your stuff. I can't wait to see more. And thank you for the other restaurant recommendation (Not Your Average Joe's)...we found it on our last night and MAN, was it good.

THANK YOU to Sam & Joanne for driving so far to see us for just one evening, and for immediately shopping with us (and especially to Joanne for helping me pick the perfect bracelet). We don't get to see each nearly often enough and having the chance was really a blessing.

THANK YOU to Mom for picking up in the middle of your busy life to come and hang out with me for 2 weeks, to keep me great company, to be a patient and willing shopping companion and for being the kind of person that thought the Louisa May Alcott Museum was as cool as I did.

The Marketing Manager at our US office made the comment that I know more people around the Boston area than she does, and it made me laugh. I have friends and family EVERYWHERE. How awesome is that?! Ellen and Reé (and anyone else I may have missed), I hope we can get together next year!

and last but far from least, THANK YOU to Anders and Martin & Karin for being so glad to see me when I got home.

Marvelous Maple-syrupy Mounds of Birthday Wishes to thinkum!

It's strange to think I'm half a world away from where I was this time yesterday, and with the busy week ahead I shall be flung back into routine quickly. I've come back to summer apparently. All the flowering trees were in full bloom in Boston, but here everything is leafed out, the grass is green and and high and the rapeseed is lying golden and full in the fields. After 24 hours of traveling, my body is only craving motionlessness and sleep and O! how glad I am to be home. I feel badly that I haven't been writing here but honestly there hasn't been time (or really, inclination) and I suspect I must re-learn the habit I seem to have so thoroughly shed.

Bright & Bonny Birthday Wishes to same_sky!

We have been go-go-going non-stop since I arrived. Working every day and shopping every evening. I've met Chuck! And Bluepoppy! And Christina! And Bluepoppy's T! And being at Soliden this weekend filled my whole middle with a big golden ball of warmth. The temperatures all this past week have been in the middle 80's (*boggle*) and Mom and I have been having a great time tooling around and just being together. And it's half over, already! Where does the time go? Zooooooooom!

>>>> Photos!

Anders arrived home late last night from his 2 week business trip in Italy. Now it's his turn to hold down the fort for 2 weeks, and make sure the kids get their homework done and the fish get fed and the dishes done and the laundry folded.

Except for my bathroom bag, I've been packed since this afternoon. I am ready to go. The taxi is coming at 7:45 to take me to the airport and from there I'll fly via Amsterdam to Boston where I'll wait until my mom's plane lands and then we'll pick up the rental car and drive out to the hotel.

2 weeks in the States! woo hoo!

I'm going there for work, but it's not work I'm looking forward to. It's seeing Bluepoppy and her Brombie Mob and my old friend Robin and meeting Chuck and his daughter and getting together with a beloved aunt and uncle that I see far too little of. And hanging out for 2 weeks with my mom!

And, I confess, it's the shopping and the chance to indulge in American pleasures that I'm looking forward to. Bookstores the size of 2-story football fields. The candy of my childhood. Dinner at Macaroni Grill. And the fact that the dollar is in the toilet doesn't hurt either. Everything will be so cheap!

Not sure how much I'll be posting for the next 2 weeks but I will try and pop in as often as possible :) Catch you on the flip side!

Sunny Springy Sproingy Birthday Wishes to jackiejj, blue_eyed_girl and Meg Fowler!

I was kind of yanking my brother's chain when I wrote yesterday's post, and obviously, since he's one of the few that hears the tone of my voice in his head when he reads my words, simply BECAUSE he knows me (too) well, I figured he would get that.

See, it wasn't really him (he?) that sparked the post I wrote, but it was he (him?) that sent me the link to the essay that DID spark it, so he got sort of associated sideways and took the brunt of the blame, quite unfairly.

Robin Hobb thinks what I do here isn't Writing. She thinks that what ALL of us who blog and journal online do isn't Writing. And to be fair, she has a valid point in many, many cases. And she obviously has her tongue firmly inserted in her cheek, as well. She's a fantasy author, for those of you who don't know: a damn good one and a damn good Writer as well.

Whether or not I am a Writer (or you) may be open to debate but the fact remains that I am a writer. I write, therefore, etc. I may not write novels or novellas or trilogies that sell a bazillion copies and get translated into several languages, but by God, I do write. Once in awhile I even birth a halfway decent poem, so I can, with confidence, claim I am a poet, though I am not in the league, by far, of the Real Poets, and I'd certainly never dare to try and make a living with it.

One thing that I think makes a writer is the ability to play with language, to hear voices in your head and transfer them to the page (or screen) in such a way that others hear them, too. And if you can do that with characters, super, but if you can do it with yourself and your life, then that is equally valid.

Sometimes I think it's a shame that I DON'T have the capability to create worlds in my head, and storylines and characters that would make someone buy all my books and read them over and over, like so many of the authors I devour and adore. But it doesn't really matter, because I know my writing talent, such as it is, lies in other places. I believe, like Robin Hobb, and like my brother, that the only way to be a writer is to WRITE. It's a nice bonus to know that I have such fans.

Sorry, John, if my mental voice didn't translate very well, and also that I made you out to be the bad guy, quite without malice aforethought. You're very much the opposite and one of my most dedicated champions.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled blogging!

My brother thinks what I do here isn't Writing (with a capital W). But what he doesn't realize is that I'm not really a writer and if I wasn't writing here, I wouldn't be writing at all. I started this journal SPECIFICALLY to kick start my writing again, and it worked, and as a big fat bonus I also got a round of awesome people to become friends with and the whole Internet to ask questions of and get recognition and applause from. Score!

There simply isn't enough time in the day to do all the things I'd like to do, (especially when much of it is spent mindlessly playing Noah's Ark working or making food for the kids or cleaning house or folding endless loads of laundry. There isn't time to be an artist and a writer and a singer and a healthy outdoor girl, not to mention a mother and a wife and a homeowner and a voracious reader and a Corporate Graphical Designer. So, you have to choose and you have to prioritize and you have to compromise, none of which things are very conducive to creativity and inspiration.

Frankly, I envy those who make a living from their talent, until I remember that I do, too. Though I'm not a career artist or writer or singer, I AM creative in many ways and I DO find the time to indulge them, just not as often or as much as I would like outside of the creative work I have in my "career." In high school and college I seemed to have time to do everything I wanted (which often involved blowing off classes or staying up until 4 a.m. typing a term paper with no outline that was due the next day).** But I wasn't, of course, wrestling great chunks of uninterrupted time out of my life, to do them. I didn't have the responsibilities or the obligations that I have now.

But I also know myself and my limitations. I realized long ago that being a career artist slash singer slash writer wasn't really what I was going to do with my life, that I didn't have the obsession or drive for any of them enough for those hobbies to be anything more than that: spare time pleasures.

OF COURSE I could do more. I could write more or sing more or paint more, but I've never felt the need to concentrate on any one thing when I enjoy all them in their own time. It's why I'm so good at what I do. I don't have to ONLY be good at layout work. I can be good at that, and HTML, and presentations and Photoshopping and writing, and do a good job and have fun with all of them in turn. I don't feel the need to specialize (it's for insects, said Heinlein, and I agree) or compartmentalize.

I LIKE writing here, and I'm proud of many of the things I've written, essays that have sometimes taken much more time and effort and even research than you might think goes into a "journal post," but for all that, I'm not a writer the way some of my friends are or some of the bloggers I read, or some of the published authors whom I admire so much. I don't have any real desire to get published, or I WOULD HAVE by now. If I were a writer, I'd be writing. But I'm not a writer like that. I'm just me. I'm not great, perhaps, at any one specific thing, but I'm good at a lot of them, and they are all things I LIKE, things that I don't obsess over or worry about; things I can have fun with and do when the mood strikes me (hey mood! why so violent?) or the muse descends.

Never having really been able to answer the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" has never much bothered me. I never knew, yet I managed to figure it out subconsciously anyway. I AM what I wanted to be when I grew up: well-rounded (shut up, John, I don't mean physically) and happy with my little corner of the universe. I have the job that suits me best and a life that keeps me busy and happy and content and crazy. What more could anyone ask for?

*Henry Van Dyke
**And which I usually aced, which pissed off my roommates to no end, since they'd been preparing and writing theirs for weeks.