lizardek's obiter dictum

POSSIBLE REASONS WHY LIZARDEK IS IN SUCH A GOOD MOOD

Thu, 15 May 2008 12:27:21 GMT

2 solid weeks of sunshine?

Anticipation of book group tonight even though she hasn't read the book?

The lovely lovely lilacs?

The decision to take off for lunch in town tomorrow and then play hookey for the rest of the afternoon before attending a party in the evening?

The fact that tomorrow is Friday and she has no plans for the weekend?

ALL OF THE ABOVE?

DECISIONS, DECISIONS

Tue, 13 May 2008 19:43:59 GMT

View Poll: DECISIONS

Bouncy Flouncy Pouncy Piles of Birthday Wishes to redpirk!

TAKING THE PLUNGE

Mon, 12 May 2008 21:11:51 GMT

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!

PRIZE WINNER

Sat, 10 May 2008 19:35:19 GMT

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.

THIS JUST IN

Fri, 09 May 2008 20:50:17 GMT

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)

FEELING GRATITUDE & NOT EXPRESSING IT IS LIKE WRAPPING A PRESENT & NOT GIVING IT

Mon, 05 May 2008 18:51:55 GMT

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!

BACK

Sun, 04 May 2008 19:16:52 GMT

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!

DRIVE BY BLOGGING

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 02:06:10 GMT

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!

TRAVELING SHOES

Sat, 19 Apr 2008 21:08:38 GMT

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!

PUBLIC APOLOGY

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 20:04:57 GMT

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!

THE WOODS WOULD BE VERY SILENT IF NO BIRDS SANG THERE EXCEPT THOSE THAT SANG BEST*

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 21:02:44 GMT

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.

PEOPLE SAY THAT LIFE IS THE THING, BUT I PREFER READING*

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 19:56:04 GMT

Torture! It's torture, I tell you. I have tonight, tomorrow night, Friday night and Saturday night. Looking at the not-yet-read books I have piled on the shelf, none of them seem short enough that I could start them now and be done with them by Saturday night when I simply must be done with it because I can't take a book that I'm nearly finished with all the way to the States if it turns out to be one I want to keep, thus meaning I must bring it back again! (Especially one my mother already mailed to me ONCE across the ocean)

I must bring books with me, of course, for the trip, since to be traveling without something to read is a blasphemous thought, but I know I shall most likely finish 1 or 2 books on the trip alone, so planning must be done carefully. I want to buy books while I am IN the States, so the more books I take with me, the less books I will be able to buy while there and bring back. It is all so difficult!

To make it worse I have the first 2 books in an 8-book series that I have been coveting for ages to read, and I want to dive into them now, but I simply must have the rest of the series before starting because after having read a DIFFERENT 8-book series by the same author, I know what I am getting into, and I will be leaping and gulping down book after book and the very idea of having to STOP and WAIT in the middle of the story while I order the remaining books is a thought simply not to be borne.

So, for the next few days I will content myself with re-reading short books, well-loved books that I know I can finish before my rapidly approaching deadline. It may be torture, but I can live with it, if I must.

*Logan Pearsall Smith

Really Great Writing Out There Right Now: The knowledge of what happened and what will

Cracking Me Up: Communication breakdown

NOT A GOOD START

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 20:04:20 GMT

I walked around the house in the late evening, turning off lights and checking the locks on the doors. Then I went and brushed my teeth and put on my nightgown and took my book into bed with me. I set the alarm, thinking, "Have to get up at a quarter to 7" in order to get the kids up and dressed and breakfasted, so that we would all be on time for school and work.

I read for awhile and then I turned out the light and went to sleep.

I slept really hard and when I woke I rolled over and looked at the big red LED letters on my alarm clock: 5 a.m. I rolled back over and dozed off again. The kids often wake and get up even before they have to, in order to get a little computer game-playing in before they have to get dressed. I heard one of them come in the bedroom and ask me quietly, from my fog of half-sleep, "Mom, what day is it today?" I didn't really register that the tone was a bit worried. "Monday," I groggily answered.

Martin, for it was he, went back out of the bedroom and I heard his pajamaed feet shooshing away. Some rather short time passed and then Karin was suddenly by my side, saying, "Mama!! It's 7:30!"

What? I opened my eyes and stared at her and then turned my head and looked at the clock. Sure enough, it said 07:31 in big red numbers.

AAAAGGGH!!! I yelled and leaped out of bed.

So we managed to accomplish in 20 minutes what usually takes us 45: the kids speed-dressed, brushed their teeth and hair, and shoveled in their fil and cereal while I stumbled about and gathered their gym clothes and fruit. After I got them out the door, I jumped in the shower and rapidly got ready for work.

Leaving the house at 8 o'clock (the time I normally ARRIVE at work) I thought I wasn't doing so bad...I'd only be about 10 minutes late and it's not like I have to punch in or as if someone is checking up on what time I come in. But this morning they decided to start paving the main road out of the village and waiting in the alternate lane traffic held me up for 20 minutes. Then I got stuck behind a MOPED who would not pull the hell over to the shoulder and let me by and then, after I managed to pass him finally, a TRUCK pulled out into the road right in front of me to turn around.

"ONE MORE THING slows me down this morning and heads are going to roll," I gritted my teeth together and clutched the steering wheel.

I finally arrived at work, 45 minutes late. All because my math-impaired brain had equated the "Quarter to Seven" information I gave it last night as 7:45 and set the alarm accordingly. *sigh*

It's a wonder to me that I'm the one that takes care of paying bills and remembering dates in the family.

GOOD THINGS ON A SATURDAY IN SPRING

Sat, 12 Apr 2008 20:41:33 GMT

Eating blueberry cake hot out of the oven

Sitting on a sun-warmed bench at a playground with my face turned up to the light and the heat

Watching Martin patiently play with a little 4-year-old girl who had attached herself like a limpet, and marveling over how GROWN-UP he suddenly looked

Rocking out to great old 90s tunes in the car

Listening to blackbirds sing

Getting a backrub by shoulderblade from my daughter (very weird, though)

Seeing a stork stalk gawkily along the edge of a field

Walking outside in the clear cold night air, where the paving stones sparkle with frost and looking up at the half-moon and stars

Thinking that it's only a week until I go to the States

I WOVE MY WEBS FOR YOU BECAUSE I LIKED YOU

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 20:40:10 GMT

How much do you think your friends define you? Are you cool because of the people you hang out with or are they cool because of YOU?

What I love most about book group is not actually the books we read. Most of the books are not books I would have chosen to read at all, and while sometimes that's okay and they turn out to be worth it; that's not always the case. It's not the discussions about the books either, though I like those a lot, especially when there are majorly mixed feelings about the book or in the cases where most of us hated it, since those discussions are the most animated.

It's the friendships with the like-minded people that I love most. Book people. Intelligent, reading thinkers. Friendly people who like to socialize, talk about something else besides the weather and their children. People who enjoy with gusto the refreshments you have to offer (pearl tomatoes with mozzarella and fresh basil, brie and crackers, apple crumble cake with vanilla sauce, dark-chocolate-covered Canadian cranberries, herb-crusted sausage, fresh green and red seedless grapes).

People who you only get to see once every 6 weeks or so, the most of whom I don't have any other real social contact with, but whom I consider kindred in a very real way.

I have lots of groups of friends, some of which overlap. I have my old friends from high school, most of whom I have little contact with, but with whom I nonetheless share a unbreakable bond. I have my old friends from college, and the girlfriends from the Chicago days. I have relatives that I consider friends, even! I have friends from the AWC and friends from my husband's circle of old friends and friends through work and choir and that whole wild far-flung group of you, my internet pals.

I am so damn lucky to have so many friends. Though it's true, you're all a little bit cooler because of me.

Or, no wait, it's the other way around. :)

***

Brightly Lit Blow-em-Out Birthday Wishes to reebert (Belated) and kissekat!

To My Dear Reé: What I wish for you is time for healing, time for learning to love yourself, time for new beginnings and little pots of spring seedlings. I wish for you closeness with someone special, beautiful things to surround yourself with, words to spring from lips and mind that make you tingle and shiver with joy, and above all a veritable plethora of days to continue building this friendship in. Thank you for your friendship. Happy birthday from me to you.

GROWING OLD IS MANDATORY, GROWING UP IS OPTIONAL*

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 19:28:09 GMT

I have, and have had, so much to do that I keep forgetting I've done things. I've always been proud of my memory but it seems to be failing me more and more lately. Or rather, I suppose it's I who have overburdened it so badly that it's staggered and fallen to its knees (beneath my hairline). My memory has fallen and it can't get up!

When do I start worrying about Alzheimers? When does the Part-heimers cross the line? When I can't remember who I am? Where I'm supposed to be? Which of my children has a birthday in July? When I find the milk in the pantry and the cereal in the freezer? When I walk into a room and suddenly stop because I can't remember what I came in there for? Oh wait, I've been doing that for years.

Ugh. It's an uncomfortable feeling, nonetheless.

What consequence of aging do you fret over most? And don't tell me you don't fret about aging, regardless of how young you are. Even if you think that things are better now then they ever were before, there must be somethings that make you pause and hrm to yourself. Maybe it's the creakiness with which you climb out of bed, or the fact that your glasses have more than one setting, or how those darn kids mumble: EH? SPEAK UP!

Maybe it's the way you turn all Roger "I'm too old for this shit" Murtaugh-ish when your children drag you on some crazy escapade. Or how you start yawning at 9 p.m. when once you could have stayed up talking all night. Maybe the fretting only hits you when you have to congratulate a colleague on her TWENTIETH birthday. Or when an acquaintance remarks that he was in kindergarten when Challenger exploded.

But I think one of the hardest things about aging is the realization that inside I am still the same. The same as I was when I was a child, at least to a great extent. The same as I was as a teenager, the same as a young woman. Even though I have changed and grown and learned, my self doesn't feel any older to me. And it's a strange thought to know that even when I am 60 or 70 or 80, that will still be true. I'll still feel like my SELF, young and able to do anything, but my body will have other ideas and will call me whippersnapper and tell me to get off the lawn.

Cracking Me Up: When Stereotypes Come to Life

*Chili Davis

:(

Sun, 06 Apr 2008 17:38:05 GMT

Oh my god, I am so sad. I just heard the horrible news that our good friends had to put their dog, Chimay, to sleep last weekend, after he suffered a slipped disk in his spine. He was the most wonderful sweetheart of a dog. We had the signal honor of having Chimay at our house for a week about a year and a half ago and have greeted him with proprietary affection every time we've seen him since. This sure put a damper on the good mood post below. I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes wondering how in the hell I'm going to tell the kids.

LET THE SUN SHINE IN

Sun, 06 Apr 2008 15:54:11 GMT

What determines your mood? Is it already preset when you wake up? Does the sunshine factor in? Is it based on how many things you have to do during the day or worries you have about the week ahead?

Despite the cloud cover, we have had intermittent sunshine all day. Right now it is beaming through the house like a great big global smile. It's lighting up everything—the floor, the fish tank, the dirty windows. I still have to get out and go for a walk, but am guessing I will end up going after dinner which I need to get started soon: chicken and potatoes. We always seem to have pasta or rice because, for some reason, they seem to be faster and simpler, but really, potatoes take the same amount of time. I think the real reason is because I forget we have them and then they go bad, whereas pasta and rice stays packaged until ready in the pantry.

I got so much done today! If striking things off a to-do list doesn't put you in a good mood, I don't know what will. The house is sparkling clean (except for the aforementioned windows) and it smells good to boot. The last load of weekend laundry is rotating in the dryer right now and the groceries we bought are all put away, except for a freshly washed row of ruffly green lettuce leaves air-drying by the sink. The house plants have been watered, bills have been paid and taxes filed, and the magazine basket emptied and tidied. And having a nice long catch-up talk with my mom this afternoon made up a bit for the fact that Anders left this morning for a 2-week business trip.

Yesterday we took the kids to Malmö to what turned out to be a very lame science fiction convention. It wasn't really a convention. It was more of an excuse to sell small plastic action figure characters and for a handful of diehards to dress up in stormtrooper uniforms and jedi robes. The main attractions were "stars" from The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, but obviously, someone was scraping the bottom of the celebrity barrel as they turned out to be Brad Dourif, who played Grima Wormtongue in LOTR and the guy who voiced Watto in The Phantom Menace. "Who?" I hear you saying. Yes, exactly. Lorenzo Lamas was there, too, looking jaded and tired. I don't blame him, considering the surroundings. But how he qualified as an attraction at a sci fi event was a little murky for me.

I had been really hoping that the Science Fiction bookstore from Gothenburg or Stockholm would be there and they were, but alas, with no books (!!), only manga comics and Michael Moorcock t-shirts and 3-months-past-2008 calendars. Hrm.

We browsed around the booths for awhile—geez louise...how many Star Wars action figures ARE there in this world?? The amount must be staggering, honestly. Martin and Karin both spent their money on PC games and I found some used DVDs for 25 kronor each and came away with an old favorite (The Fabulous Baker Boys), a decent date night movie (Notting Hill) and a film I've been wanting to see for some time (Finding Neverland). Anders and I watched the latter last night after the kids crashed and I really enjoyed it. Johnny Depp with a Scottish accent was positively edible and Kate Winslet was at her very best, which is to say, not at all annoying.

The week ahead is a relatively busy one, but not too stressful, and there's book group in the middle of it, which I am hosting. And in the midst of talking to my mom, while we were checking out something online, I discovered that my favorite clothing store now has online shopping! So, all in all, I'm in a pretty good mood and feeling pretty good about life in general. I hope you are, too.

SPROING!

Fri, 04 Apr 2008 20:28:44 GMT

The lungwort in the front garden is in full bloom. What an ugly name for a pretty plant. It was fun just now to look up the origin of the name, however I like the other colloquial names for it much better: Spotted dog, Jerusalem cowslip, Soldiers & Sailors.

I like it because it has such fun polka-dotted leaves and it flowers for a really long time, and then it flowers again, and also it just keeps coming up year after year without my having to do anything much. I like low-maintenance plants, since I'm the world's most indifferent gardener. I love the IDEA of a garden and can muse and browse for a surprisingly long time through garden photos and ideas, but actually doing anything about it? Not going to happen.

Despite the fact that the temperature is very slowly rising, the leaves haven't burst out yet, though one can tell that they're on the verge. Today the bird cherries looked swollen and ready to pop into bright whiteness at any moment...if tomorrow is nice, they'll blow for sure. All the daffodils in Malmö are up and blooming, though we, a scant 30 minutes north, are still a ways behind.

I got flowers at work this week and public recognition from my boss for the hard work I've been doing lately. It was nice, but my cynical self was whispering behind my brain, "Uh huh, now show me the money." I'm enjoying the roses, though. They're hugely round pinky-orange ruffled beauties and they smell heavenly.

Yesterday I saw the first butterfly and the first bumblebee of spring. The blackbirds have suddenly reappeared and are hopping about, trilling madly, nest-building in pairs. What is that lightening feeilng? My mood? The lengthening day? The barely felt sense of a shift. We're not just in endless waiting mode anymore, it's nearly here.

In two weeks I'm heading to the States to work. I'm looking forward to it, though I bet I will be flattened by jetlag, not having 2 weeks of vacation first like I did last year. I can't wait to see my mom and get some good work time with my American colleagues and spend a sure-to-be rejuvenating weekend with Bluepoppy and the Brombie mob at Soliden. I'm planning to visit with an old high school buddy and most exciting, I will get to meet another online friend that I have been reading since I started this here journal-thing back in 2003. Chuck lives in Seattle and I figured our chances of ever actually getting together were slim to none, because there isn't much chance of my getting to Seattle and equally little chance of his getting to Sweden, but his daughter lives near Boston, which is near where I'll be working and he's flying out to visit her and my mom and I will get to meet them both!

That's the best thing about this journal. The people I've met through it, even when I haven't met them yet, and most especially, when I do.

Big, Bright & Beautiful Belated Birthday Wishes to travelertrish!

CRACK ADDICT

Tue, 01 Apr 2008 20:09:57 GMT

La la la! Hey there! How are ya? Good? Are you good? I'm good, though I was kinda wondering earlier when I felt that familiar sense of detachment settle around my shoulders like a warm and comfortable shawl. I've been in the process of shrugging it off all evening, however, and it's currently lying on the floor, keeping my feet warm instead.

I had a massage at work today, much-needed since last week just as I knocked on the door for my scheduled appointment she popped her head out with her coat on and made me want to cry by saying how sorry she was but she had to run home: sick kid. "Sick kid! What about my NECK AND SHOULDERS?" I thought, and was instantly ashamed though I did still want to cry. Like her kid couldn't have waited another half hour.

hee!

Anyway, in the middle of the massage, I suddenly felt I had to move my head slightly and when I did so, one of the vertebrae in my neck let out a POP so loud that it practically echoed. "Whoa!" she said. I laughed. As long as I can remember I've been able to crack my neck, my ankles, my knuckles, my spine. Once, at work long ago in Chicago, I twisted my head to the side in front of one of our IT guys and my neck went off like popcorn. He was flabbergasted. I was kind of proud of my show-off loudmouth neck, since he was so impressed.

My dad used to regularly crack his knuckles too, in fact, except for my mom (who probably does it in secret, though she'd deny it), my whole family does it. Anders doesn't and he gives me the hairy eyeball every time I crack something in front of him (especially a bad joke). Karin cries out in distress and says sternly, DON'T DO THAT MAMA, but then she proudly tells me when SHE'S managed to crack something, usually inadvertantly, since she's not encouraged to take up the habit-forming practice.

The best kind of hug is the kind that causes my spine to pop in a couple of places, though it happens very infrequently, I'm sad to say.

I've never been too concerned about enlarged knuckles or arthritis (something I worry about for other reasons) since I've seen no signs that cracking my knuckles or back or ankles or neck has caused any physiological changes, plus I've read enough about it to know it's (mostly) an old wive's tale. One online medical study did state that "Habitual knuckle cracking was associated with manual labour, biting of the nails, smoking, and drinking alcohol" which made me laugh, since I am associated with none of those things.

I don't crack my knuckles by lacing my fingers together and stretching my palms outward away from my body. Instead, I wrap the fingers of one hand around a finger on another hand and twist. I can get 3 good pops out of one finger if I'm lucky. Another study online called knuckle-cracking "annoying and asocial" which I found a bit harsh. Annoying, okay, I can see that, but I suspect that most annoyance caused by someone else cracking their knuckles is because so many people have it pounded into them from childhood that they shouldn't do it and those who do must, therefore, be both rule-breakers and rebels of the first degree. For those who do indulge, it tends to give a pleasurable sense of looseness and relief and most people do it unconsciously, so it's certainly not usually done with the INTENTION of annoying others, at least not to start with. But asocial? Give me a break.

Where do you fall in the knuckle-cracking camp? Do you crack 'em or shiver at the thought?

FROGS & TOADS TOGETHER

Sat, 29 Mar 2008 16:40:54 GMT

Rainy days make me feel like I'm sunk inside myself with no way out. Grey is my mood, grey as the sky. Motivation is at an all-time low and though what I really want to do is lie down and nap I refuse to do so because I know that if I do, I will sleep for several hours, right through dinner, in fact, and will waken feeling drugged and sluggish and grumpier than before. Projects tug and tease at the corners of my mind but I keep ignoring them in favor of lethargy and leaning on one elbow playing endless levels of Noah's Ark, determined to find out if the next rank above "Noah" is God. If a sudden power loss crashes the game again, I may put a fist through the screen.

Spiraling along, in a loop of simmering discontentment, I feel threatened by my own inability to yank myself out of the doldrums. I suppose what I need is a good wallow in self-pity, lying sprawled on the sofa with Air Supply or Barry Manilow or some such super drivel playing as loudly as possible while tears leak into my ears and hair. My children and husband oblivious to my misery on the other side of the house, I could lie and stare out the window at the raindrops pattering down in the puddles on the deck, reflections of the grey sky and clouds and bedraggled magpies in the yard.

I think about the warming weather and the fact that with the rain, the little frogs will soon come up out of their winter earth-holes and hop straight into the paths of unobservant drivers. The thought of all those little squashed frogs nearly flattens me with sorrow. Googling Air Supply lyrics, I find the words to All Out of Love (what? you thought I actually OWNED one of their albums?) and sing it slowly and throbbingly in my head.

Rain is dripping from the withered honeysuckle vine; the entire garden is sodden and inert. That promise of spring so many weeks ago seems like a cruel prank pulled by a heartless god.

Wallowing in self-created misery is boring after awhile. If I were Cher, I'd slap myself about now and yell, "Snap out of it!" Slapping myself makes my hand sting, makes me giggle. If I were Cher I'd no doubt be dressed inappropriately for my age. Since I don't actually own any Air Supply or Barry Manilow, or Cher for that matter, I'm at a loss as to what music I could play to get the mood back, which I just lost completely by remembering that scene from Moonstruck where Olympia Dukakis makes toad-in-the-holes (toads-in-the-hole?) for her daughter. My roommate and I went straight from the movie theater to the grocery store and bought eggs and chervil and Italian bread and then went home and made toad-in-the-holes. That was a long time ago.

I've treated girlfriends the morning after sleepovers to toad-in-the-holes, but my kids will only eat eggs if they're hard-boiled so I have yet to make them for my own daughter, or son.

My sister has a birthday coming up this week. One of the items on her wish list was a "toad home." I didn't know what she meant, so I googled that, too. Ah, Google, how I do love thee! I was shocked to find out that some enterprising companies are charging upwards of $150 for what is essentially a birdhouse that you put down in a wet place in your yard.

Damn it, the sun just came out. Figures. There goes my bad mood. So much for wallowing, better luck next time crankypants!

In Love With & Coveting: Beastlies

Bundled Bouquets of Belated Birthday Wishes to carrieb!

URGH, I SAY

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 22:42:39 GMT

Urgh

TAKING WHAT THEY GIVING

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 21:23:44 GMT

My brother and I are talking on the phone last week. It's evening but I am working, as I have been doing every evening when I don't have plans or previous commitments, for what seems like, and is, in fact, months. I'm grumpy with it and also with PMS and the fact that in the war against the inanimate, I am losing daily skirmishes—the windshield wipers on the car have, for instance, achieved strategic victories not once, but twice in the past several days. I can't remember now what day it was that we talked, as every day has blurred a bit, dull with the sameness of stress and the wet waiting for spring.

I tell him that I will most likely have to work all 4 days of my long weekend, in order to try and get out from under the mountain of work that threatens to topple over and bury me completely. He scoffs, because he, too, knows what it is like to work and work and work all day, all evening, all weekend, with the only reward or recognition your own sense of ethics. I make some flippant remark about slogging on while other 'mere mortals' enjoy their 4 days off, and he scornfully tells me that I am the mere mortal, if I must slave through my days off to catch up. This does nothing, obviously, to help the grumpiness, and after rankling for awhile under the skin, feeling that I should have had a comeback, I finally come up with one. If I am doing the work of (at the least) 2 people, then I am no mere mortal to have to work the amount of extra time that I am, in order to keep abreast of things.

And after 4 days of steady work, during which time, because of the fact that everyone else is off as well, and there are few new requests coming in, I can feel that I am actually...almost...nearly...just about...caught up, and I think it was worth it. Sort of.

There is something strange in my makeup, I think, sometimes. Here in Sweden, in fact, in all of Scandinavia, it is extraordinarily easy for people who are stressed out at work or just plain burned out, to go on paid sick leave, at the expense of the government, in order to recuperate and get their metaphorical feet back under them. I have been feeling very close to burn out for some time, with no real end in sight, but I cannot imagine just giving up and bailing out in order to unwind, de-stress or whatever. I just get grumpier and grumpier, which can't, I know, be healthy in the long run, but honestly, what alternative do I have?

I DO say no to projects. I do tell my boss that this is a huge, ongoing problem. I realize that I am not alone. But even though I don't like it very much right now, I do still love my job. I just wish it, like the weather, would lighten up.

Today it snowed and snowed and snowed but it didn't start sticking until night had fallen. All day it swirled around but only wetted things, made them damp with cold. Now the world is whitewashed, a sight I would have found great enchantment in a few months ago, but which now only makes me sigh and turn my face from the window.

Earlier this afternoon, Karin threw a huge hissy fit at being told she had to wear snowpants to go to a friends' house and stormed and whined and generally got on my last nerve in every way, and I couldn't take it and told her, short and snapping, to cut it the hell out. For awhile, she laid on the floor of the laundry room and sobbed loudly to herself about the unfairness of life and parents and when that got no reaction, she finally stomped past me and slammed into her room. Several minutes later, she came out again with a much-folded piece of paper and dropped it beside my laptop, before turning on her heel and marching back to her room (*slam*).

I picked up the notepaper and unfolded it. In English, she had written, "~~Hwy~~ Why does it semm like you don't love me?" At the bottom of the page, she had written, in Swedish, "Hälsningar, Karin" which means greetings or regards.

Now, you have to understand that hissy fits are something Karin does well, with style and elaboration, and that she has been doing them for so long that all of us mostly roll our eyes or laugh at her to chivvy her out of it, or ignore her, or (especially in my case, as I have the least amount of patience in the house) lose our temper with her. I wrote on the paper, "I ALWAYS love you. It's your behavior that I don't always love." And I folded it back up and went to her room. The door was slightly ajar and I could see through the crack that she was curled up under her comforter. She peeked out and saw me and almost giggled at the grimace I was making at her and said STOP IT MAMA and thrust her head back under. I opened the door and slid the note under the edge of the covers and then I went out again and shut the door and waited.

I heard her rustling about, and after a moment I went back in and pushed her over and climbed into the bottom bunk with her, wrapping my arms tightly around her. She'd been crying and she made me tear up, too. "I ALWAYS love you, kiddo," I said. "Nothing you do could ever make me NOT love you. But I don't love the whining and fussing. Do you understand the difference?" She nodded and we talked for a bit and huggled and then it was okay again.

Finally, I sat up on the edge of the bed, and just before I stood up to go back to work in the dining room, she asked, "Did I spell everything right on the note?" so I got back in bed with her and cuddled some more.

Many Magnificent Blog-Belated Birthday-Returns of the Day to: knacke_brod, emmabovary and johann_metzger!

DEAR INTERNET

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 22:19:29 GMT

We've really grown apart lately, but honestly, it's not you. It's me. I never meant for ~~my day job~~ ~~my other relationship~~ real life to become so ALL-CONSUMING, but there it is. And here we are.

I miss you. I'll be back.

I hope. *sigh*

*kisses*

PS. And you, Vern...excuse me, MR. Equinox, you can take your late-spring snow-dump and freezing temperatures and SHOVE THEM UP YOUR POOPSHOOT. *grump*

THAT'S LIFE

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 22:01:12 GMT

Another weekend whizzes by. But now we have lots of time off to look forward to, as Easter approaches. The kids are off school this week but are at daycare part-time, since mom and dad are working until Friday. Friday is a day off! And Monday? Is a day off! We are not doing anything special for Easter, however, other than coloring eggs at some point, and hiding them presumably. And I need to go shopping for stuff to fill baskets with.

I don't know why, since this has always been a favorite holiday to celebrate American traditions on, that I can't seem to get motivated about it this year. I did managed to snag a bunch of birch branches with bright yellow feathers on them while Karin and I were at the grocery store last week and she planted them very nicely in the flowerpots full of dead fall flowers in the front garden. But I haven't gotten out any other chicky/eggy decorations and don't feel the urge to do so, at all.

Maybe it's because the holiday falls so EARLY this year. It doesn't feel like it ought to be Easter quite yet. Also, wasn't Jesus just BORN a couple of months ago? It's kind of strange, when you think about it, that his birthday is celebrated and then a scant 3 months later we get off work because he died. Or maybe it's because he rose again that we get the time off.

Man, I bet I'm gonna OFFEND someone with this post. Hrm.

This morning I got a wild hare up my ass (if you can't offend them with flippancy about major religious events, do it with vulgar language!) and cleaned out every cabinet in the bathroom. This may not sound like a momentous undertaking to you, but if you knew how long it's been since it was done (*coughsincewemovedincough*) you'd be appalled. Part of my motivation was presumably the desire to go through the toiletries and cosmetics and medicines that I still routinely import from the States and see what was in need of re-stocking due to my impending trip to the east coast.

I checked expiration dates on things and slowly filled a large plastic bag with past-date medicines and other pharmaceuticals to take for proper disposal. A WHOLE BAG FULL. Geez louise. This included stuff that was bought when the children where INFANTS: rubbing alcohol, calamine lotion, etc. I pulled apart packaging and piled cartons and plastic for the bins in the laundry room. I windexed and wiped and organized. I even de-haired brushes. There are 4 medicine cabinets over the sink, and 3 big cabinets under the sink, in addition to 4 large cabinets which hold linens and various and sundry. I even wiped off the TOP of the cabinets, close to the ceiling: that was scary, I can tell you. I was tempted to write my name and the date in the dust and leave it to posterity, but better sense prevailed.

And yesterday I actually MOPPED. I hate mopping. With a passion. Which gives you an idea of how bad it must have been for me to take steps to rectify the disgusting situation. Ick.

In addition to this monumental upheaval and bathroom cleaning orgy, I did all the usual weekend things: sleeping in, watching Melodifestivalen (which is OVER, thank god), reading a really good book, laundry, walking and the additional "joy" of WORKING. I couldn't stop myself. I don't know any other way to keep up right now. None of which leaves me with anything interesting to write about in terms of what I've been up to lately, but c'est la vie. One nice thing that we have been enjoying, however, on top of all the usual, is Hanna's presence. We'll be sad to give her back, but it's obvious that she would rather be home and is missing her folks.

Barrelsful of the Best Birthday Wishes to brief_therapy!